


The Butterfly Effect

by Ofseaandsky



Series: The Consequences of Chaos [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, POV Clarke Griffin, POV Roan (The 100), Roan Lives (The 100), Season 5 AU, Slow Burn, Technically the time between Season 4 and 5, but we'll get there eventually, really slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 84,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ofseaandsky/pseuds/Ofseaandsky
Summary: An alternative season 5 (kind of) of The 100 if Roan survived with Clarke. What would have changed? How does this change things with Madi? What does Roan contribute? Maybe more importantly, will he forgive Clarke for stealing the bunker? Well, this is my take. Not much of a summary, but that's all I've got.Follows A Grain of Sand but it isn't essential that you read that first, though it's only a one-shot. Part 2 basically spans the time between Praimfaya and the arrival of the Eligius ship.
Relationships: Clarke Griffin & Madi, Clarke Griffin/Roan, Roan & Madi
Series: The Consequences of Chaos [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2011201
Comments: 92
Kudos: 182





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, as with the first part of this series, you wouldn't be reading it without the encouragment and support of [B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/pseuds/havealittleFaith). Thank you to my absolutely fabulous beta who truly went above and beyond to help me get this out to you. I even posted a day before I thought I would because she finished early. Thank you, so much, for absolutely everything, but especially encouraging me to actually put this out there because I doubt I would have otherwise. 
> 
> Now onto the fic technicalities. I have stretched some scientific principles in this but honestly, the show wasn't exactly scientifically sound. I've done my best to look into what sort of distances they would be travelling and plotted accordingly. I did make it so they could stay in the lab longer because I could. And frankly apparently the lab was HUGE and they never actually explored it very much. If you've just read the first part and think they'll be happy to hop right back into bed, I'm sorry to disappoint. It'll take 'em a while, but they will get there. 
> 
> This fic is complete and I'll try to post a couple of chapters a week. I'm working on the third part now which is about 50-60% written at this point. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think!

Clarke ran as hard as she could, the air burning in her lungs. She could hear the radiation wave closing in and pushed harder, faster, finally seeing the door to the lab. She pushed more but faltered on her last steps seeing a slumped body sitting against it. Confused and desperate to get inside she shook herself, doubting anyone exposed to the radiation would survive even if she managed to get them both inside. What she didn’t expect was two familiar blue eyes to look up at her before they rolled back in his head.

“Roan?” Clarke gasped, glancing behind herself and forcing her body back into motion. “How-“

It didn’t matter. Not now. If they survived this, she could ask questions. Clarke used the last reserves of strength she had in her to pull the door open, looking up at the radiation wave as she grabbed Roan’s shoulders and dragged him inside. She screamed out in frustration as she tugged the heavy body until they finally made it far enough inside for her to close the door. She needed to get them as far down as possible but she doubted it would do enough. She pulled Roan further inside, jostling a moan out of him as she dragged him down a couple of stairs before she collapsed beside him, her face burning, hands searing and heart racing. Her vision got cloudy as she turned to look over at the king, a thick line of black blood oozing from his forehead. She tried to reach for him but her arms refused to cooperate before her vision blurred entirely until she was sucked into the dark void of unconsciousness.

~*~*~

Clarke woke slowly, her head pounding and a sick wave of nausea ripping through her stomach making her curl up on herself. 

“Fuck,” she swore as she opened her eyes, memories flickering through her mind. 

Bellamy. The gun. Raven stuck in the lab. The antenna. A blinding streak of light through the apocalyptic red sky as the shuttle left her behind. Running. Burning air in her lungs. Blue eyes. Pain. So much pain. 

Her eyes focussed and landed on the body beside her.

“Shit, Roan?” Her voice rasped hoarsely as she struggled to get herself upright. “Roan!”

The man didn’t answer as she moved over to him, pressing her fingers to his artery. She felt a weak but steady pulse to her relief, amazed that he was here. She thought he’d died in the conclave. She remembered the painful lurch in her heart when it was Octavia’s voice not his on the other side of the door. If it had been Roan- she shook her head. 

“Roan?” she whispered, trying to force her hands into motion. She’d need to see how extensive his injuries were. 

“Come on, Griffin,” she said, pushing herself to move, even as her muscles screamed in pain. “Think it through. You can do it.”

She pulled herself onto her feet and stumbled through the room, trying to figure out what worked and what didn’t. The lights seemed to be holding out by some miracle. They were flickering and out in several rooms including the kitchen but she found the cupboard and grabbed a couple of bottles of water. She thanked Emori’s boredom before they left for filling them all because if the filtration system was gone she only had whatever water had been pumped into the tanks and even that may already be compromised.

“Food,” she sighed in relief, pulling open the next cupboard revealing a whole slew of cans and dried food. “Okay we have water and we have food. Now where did they keep the medical kit?”

Clarke grabbed a flashlight, rubbing at her eyes to keep her focus as she walked down to the living space of the lab checking the bathrooms and hallway cupboards until she found a large metal medical case.

“Jackpot,” she smiled, opening it and finding a couple of bags of saline along with everything else she may need.

Raven must have had the foresight to stock all this. Either that or Becca was just some sort of magical being but Clarke wasn’t about to question it as she took what she’d need immediately and moved it to the room nearest the top floor of the lab. She stripped the mattress of the bed and put down a couple of towels in hopes of protecting it from whatever treating the king may bring. Now to the problem of how she was going to move a man several inches taller and many pounds heavier than her, in here so she could treat him, when her body felt like it was about to give out at any second.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she swore as she searched the lab. There must be  _ something _ .

“It’ll have to do,” she said, looking at the wheeled office chair.

“If I can get you into it,” Clarke said, speaking to Roan’s unconscious form as she positioned the chair beside him. “Then we can do this. Just help if you can.”

She squatted down over his waist and pulled him into a sitting position, knowing that this was the easy part. She braced herself and pulled him onto his knees. Clarke focussed entirely on getting her shoulder under his as best as she could before she shuffled him over to the chair, muscles screaming and head aching but finally she managed, dropping him heavily, his head rolling back on his neck.

“Shit,” she swore, checking him just to be sure but he didn’t make a noise. She pressed her fingers to his pulse finding it still weak but there.

“Alright, one more lift then we’re good,” she said, straightening and finding her arms covered in black blood. “Fuck.”

She hurriedly pushed the chair into the bedroom, stripping him of his leather jacket and ripping off his shirt. It would be easier to do this now.

“Okay, Roan,” she said as she checked his torso, finding several small abrasions but nothing major on his belly. “I’ve got to strip you and then move you again. I don’t know who thought they’d killed you but they must have done something that looked like you were done.”

She unlaced his boots and tugged them off, deciding to deal with his pants once he was on the bed. There was less body to move around that way. She ran her fingers over a dark band of bruising around his neck. Someone must have tried to strangle him. Maybe they only made him unconscious rather than killing him. Obviously. He was still here. He had small burns all over his face, long trails that looked like rivers down the side meaning he must have been caught out in the rain at some point. He certainly looked like he’d been through hell. She cupped his cheek, running her fingers softly over his cheek.

“Okay, let’s do this,” she whispered and forced her protesting body back into action, managing with only a little trouble to get him into bed.

“Right,” she sighed when she saw a long, shallow cut over his back, blood glistening in the low light. “That’s where the blood came from. I must have reopened the wound.”

Clarke settled in beside him, cleaning the wound on his back thoroughly before stitching it closed and covering it in a bandage. It should heal just fine and was far from fatal. There was a smaller cut on his side that she dressed before turning him onto his back. She cleaned and dressed the few larger wounds on his chest and arm before she took his pants off, revealing one large incision on his right thigh. She sighed, glancing up at where he still lay unconscious and pushed herself to finish, the stitching on his leg a little less perfect than the others.

“All done,” she said, pulling a blanket over his hips. “I’m going to give you an IV which I’m sure you’ve never heard of but it will give you fluids. I have no idea how long we were out for, or I was out, but you’ll need fluids. Lots. We should be compatible blood types now and I’ll give you some if you’re in bad shape. I’m sorry, it’s the best I can do.”

By the time she had hooked the IV full of saline to his arm she was shaking from fatigue but Roan was comfortable. Or as comfortable as he could be given the circumstances. She’d done what she could for now. Now she just had to wait until he woke up. If he woke up.

“Alright, rest now,” she whispered, pushing the hair back from his forehead. “I’m going to clean up and then see if I can drag another mattress in here. I may have to lie down in another room for a while but I’m here, Roan. I’m here.”

*~*~*

It had been four days and Roan was still unconscious. Clarke sat by his bedside watching him sleep, wishing she knew what to do. She’d done everything she could think of. Maybe he just wasn’t going to wake up. She sighed, rubbing her eyes forcing herself to keep going. It wasn’t absolutely desperate yet. He could survive a couple of weeks without food. He’d be weak, but he could do it.

“Time to wake up, your highness,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “Talking to you like this is starting to make me look insane.”

He didn’t do much more than shift a little in his sleep and that was the one thing that gave her hope his body was just using all its resources to heal.

Clarke ran her fingers down the scar framing his right eye before standing and moving into the kitchen area. She had searched the lab from top to bottom and done her best to work out how their supplies would hold out. They had enough food to last them maybe a couple of months if they ate the bare minimum, but more likely about one. Water wasn’t abundant but they had enough for a couple of months even with the occasional bath. She had found the generators responsible for running the filtration and bore pump but they weren’t working and she had no idea how she was going to fix them.  _ If _ she could.

“I need you Raven,” Clarke grumbled as she moved into the control room to make the radio call.

“Hi, Bellamy,” she started as she had from the first day. “Day four. Maybe five from what I can tell. I don’t know how long I was out. Roan is still unconscious but he’s stirring more so I’m hoping that means he’ll wake up soon. His wounds are healing well so I’m guessing it’s just the trauma from the radiation and the Conclave.”

“We have enough water and food to last us for a while,” she said, looking into the dark screen that once showed her information about the world. “After that though – I don’t know what we’ll do. Or what I’ll do if Roan doesn’t-“

She stopped, clearing her throat as emotion clogged her vocal chords. She took a breath and started again, imagining Bellamy’s words of comfort.

‘Roan will wake up, Clarke’ he’d say calmly, hands warm on her shoulders. ‘You just have to give him time.’

“You’re right,” she whispered into the handset. “He’ll wake up. It hasn’t been that long. It took Luna time to assimilate the radiation. Along with the other injuries, it’s not surprising he’s still sleeping. Considering the amount of pain I’m in and my injuries are nowhere near as bad as his, he just needs time.”

“I plan on going to see how bad the blockage is today,” she continued. “I’ll wear the suit just in case, but it’s more for temperature protection at this point. It’s hot. Not unbearable, but hot. I guess I’ll be complaining about the cold soon enough. Well, I hope it doesn’t look too horrible from up there. That we’ll be able to get out when we need to. Just know that I’m okay. We’re okay. We will be.”

She turned off the radio, hoping that even if they couldn’t respond, they could still hear her. Still know that she was okay. That they didn’t have to live with her death on top of everything else. But there was no way of knowing. Clarke took a deep breath, steeling herself before she looked in on Roan once again. She wouldn’t be away long but she needed to see if anything had changed. What they would be facing once they ventured out.

*~*~*

“I guess not much else has changed,” Clarke said, staring out into the quiet lab, the blue low-wattage lights she preferred to leave on for the minimal amount of light making the area eerie. “The generators stopped working today. I have to see if I can fix it. Right now it just means I don’t have lights but there’s nothing critical that doesn’t work except the water pump. So I’ll have to read the manuals and try and figure it all out. Maybe it’s a blown fuse. That’s what it always was in the movies we used to watch as kids.”

Clarke laughed a little humorlessly, wiping at the tears of frustration that leaked out. She took another deep breath, knowing she needed to get back to it.

“I’ve got to check on Roan,” she continued, voice going soft and a little hollow. “I don’t know, Bellamy. I- I’m trying to keep being hopeful but- if he doesn’t wake up in the next few days- I can’t- God- if I can’t save him, how am I going to make it five years? Sorry, I don’t mean to leave on a sad note but it’s hard to keep thinking he’s about to wake up and then nothing. Like these calls. I just hope you can hear me.”

“Really hope,” she added, taking a deep breath. “I’ll check in again tomorrow. I’m going to see if I can get some sleep. Deal with the generators. Shake Roan until he wakes up. Maybe kiss him like in the fairy tales?” She laughed bitterly, releasing her thumb from the radio, before she continued. “Probably kill him from shock if I do that. Maybe turn him into a frog with my luck. I’ll let you know tomorrow. Stay safe.”

Clarke put the radio back down, standing and leaving the lab before wandering through the dark hallway into Roan’s room, eyeing the mattress she’d put beside his bed. Instead of laying down there she sat down beside the sleeping king, looking at his chapped lips and debating the wisdom of her fairytale strategy but pressed a kiss to his forehead instead, resting her own against his.

Six days. Probably a week. He needed to wake up soon. Clarke attached her second bag of saline to the IV in his arm. Once this bag was done she’d have to read the manuals and see if she could make more. Likely she wouldn’t be able to test it and at that point it may be too dangerous to guess. Fuck. She’d have to rely on his swallowing instinct if nothing more and that wasn’t promising. 

“Come on, Roan,” she whispered next to his ear. “What can I do?”

She watched his face, eyes moving behind his lids the only indication that there was something happening inside that sleeping body. She laid down beside him in the bed, but she felt like a trespasser. After the way they’d left things- she didn’t know what he’d think of her once he woke. If she was still worse than a traitor in his eyes. Clarke closed her own against the sting of tears.

“I’m sorry, Roan,” she whispered. “I’m sorry and I’ll do whatever you want if you just wake up. I shouldn’t have cut you out. I should have asked you- you deserved more. Please just wake up. Please.”

She let the tears fall against his pillow, her fingers weaving through his. The hands that had been gentle when they could have, should have even, hurt her. Hands that had done everything they could to keep her safe. And how had she repaid him? By betraying him. Cutting him out of her plans. Maybe she’d known that he’d call her out. Tell her it would never work but she had been so desperate. And it had all been for nothing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered over and over in his ear, hoping that he heard her. Hoping that he came back. Even angry and refusing to speak to her. If he was here it was something.

“Please wake up,” she whispered desperately, finally allowing her body the rest she’d been denying it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my lovely beta [B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/pseuds/havealittleFaith) for all her help and ongoing support. She knows how awesome she is!
> 
> A note on the amount of chapters. I think it's going to be 19, maybe 20. I'm still tweaking some of the cutoffs but it's a pretty close approximation.
> 
> And thanks to those who have commented, given kudos, and subscribed. Makes me smile to know that there are still people as in love with these two as I am!

When Roan woke up, he was convinced he was dreaming. Or dead. His body ached and he was hungrier than he’d ever remembered being before. He looked around, a pale blue glow coming from the corner of the room, but his vision was still blurry and unfocused. He heard some rustling nearby and wondered what could be causing it but when he tried to lift his head he found it nearly impossible.

“Jok,” he swore as the world spun around him and forced his head back down. 

“Roan?” A familiar voice asked, clearly surprised. “Are you awake?”

“No,” he replied, frustrated and unsure. Maybe he was dead. 

“Oh-“ Clarke said, her voice catching and suddenly she was right next to him, a small warm hand on his forehead. “I was starting to think you’d never wake up.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, what to say to her at all. Nothing made sense. He didn’t know where he was, what had happened. What was real. He was still angry at her idiotic attempt at trying to ascend. At her betrayal of the oath they had sworn. After everything, he’d thought she was different. He forced his mind to try and sort through his memories.

He remembered the Conclave. Luna. The rain and that his last conscious thought having been about how cold the water of the fountain was. Then he remembered waking up in the forest near the road leading to the lab where they had done the nightblood experiments. He had no idea who got him there but he’d had just enough strength to pull himself onto the horse he found and rode as hard as his body allowed him. Coming here had been a last attempt at surviving but he had no idea what had motivated him to push himself. It was the only place he thought would have a chance at surviving what was coming, and even then he’d doubted it would. 

“Are you thirsty?” Clarke asked and he cracked his eyes open, the low light enough to make his headache worse.

“Yes,” he whispered hoarsely and she grabbed a bottle of water, pushing a hand behind his head to help him drink. 

“Just a little for now,” she said. “Take it slow.”

He glared at her and saw the flicker of uncertainty over her features. 

“We don’t have a lot of it either,” she added, the glare easing. “I’ll find a way to get us more, I just have to get the generators working.”

“How?” he asked, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. She shook her head, the water easing something in his throat and he glanced at the bottle longingly. She noticed and helped him drink again before answering.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I’m trying to figure it out. I will. I just need time. There is a couple of month’s supply of water left, about as much food. We just have to ration everything. Or hope it rains. And figure out if that would be drinkable.”

“Will it rain?” he asked and she shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” she said, looking away. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“How-“ he started but didn’t know how to finish the question. She watched him, an expression he couldn’t quite read in her eyes.

“Did we survive?” She finished for him and he supposed it was close enough. “The nightblood works.”

She rose from his side before he had a chance to process her answer. It was too simple. How did he survive the conclave? How did she end up here, in this place with him? Where were they? How did she move him inside? To this bed? She must have had help, she was barely up to his shoulder. There were so many questions that had no answers. All he knew at the moment was that he was here and in pain and weaker than he had ever been before.

“Here,” Clarke said softly when she returned to his side. “I’ve made you some soup and I brought some dried meat. We’ll start there. If you feel like I did, you probably won’t be able to keep much of this down.”

“You seem fine,” he said as she leaned over him, pulling him to adjust a pillow behind him, propping him upright. Apart from some healing burns to her face and arms, she seemed perfectly healthy.

“I’m feeling better,” she said, holding a spoon to his lips and he swallowed the liquid obediently. “The first couple of days I could barely move.”

“Days?” he asked in between spoonfuls.

“You’ve been unconscious for a week,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I thought I was hallucinating when I heard you moving in here. I wanted-.” She cut herself off shaking her head and spooning more soup into his mouth.

“A week?” he repeated. That was impossible.

“Probably eight days,” she said. “Nine at most. I don’t know how long I was out.”

He blinked, considering her as she spoke. She’d been caring for him for over a week, it went beyond what he’d expected to hear.

“I found medical supplies here,” she continued. “Gave you a couple of bags of saline to keep you hydrated. Cleaned and stitched up your wounds. I had to cut your shirt off but there are spare clothes here. Some of them should fit you.”

She nodded at the wall where he saw a bag connected to a long tube which had been stuck into his arm. He frowned, remembering what he’d read in old medical textbooks and it seemed Clarke knew enough to help him. He probably owed her his life. Whatever that meant now.

“Are we alone?” he asked as she helped him finish the last of the soup before handing him a small piece of dried meat to chew on.

His mouth watered and he felt a suspicious surge in his stomach but he’d try to keep everything down as long as he could. He watched Clarke’s face closely, the pain that crossed her features as she nodded. She closed her eyes tight and she pressed her lips together before she swallowed.

“Bellamy and the others,” she said, voice hoarse. “We found another rocket to go back up to the Ark. What’s left of it. They made it. I got to the tower in time I-“ she cut off with a wet exhale. There was more to whatever had happened and he needed to know. Maybe that held the answer to how he got to the forest.

“Who else?” he asked and waited as she gathered herself.

“Raven, Monty, Harper,” she said, moving her eyes to his again. “Murphy and Emori. Echo.”

“Echo?” he asked sharply. “Why Echo?”

“She found us on the way here,” Clarke said, frowning at him. “She saved us.”

He looked away from her as he processed what she’d said. Echo had followed them. From Polis it would seem. But what were they doing there? Unless Luna won the conclave and sentenced the world to death.

“Who won the bunker?” he asked and saw her expression flicker again.

“Octavia,” Clarke answered but there was more there as she glanced down at her hands, giving him another piece of meat to chew. “Octavia won the conclave.”

“Then why were you here?” he asked.

“Because Raven was still here,” Clarke said. “She wouldn’t have made it back in time. We went to get her. But things didn’t work out the way we planned. They went to space and I stayed.”

“What aren’t you telling me, Clarke?” he asked, impatient from pain and confusion. He hated being this weak.

He knew her well enough to read her hesitation, to see that there was more to the story. More than Echo. More than finding Raven. She raised her eyes to his again and he watched her determination set in, the look that always sharpened her blue eyes, lightened them a little more. The look he’d been so intrigued by since he first met her. The one that had proven to him that there was more to her than met the eye.

“We took the bunker,” she said. “Skaikru. Jaha - If any other kru had won that conclave it would have meant the end to everyone.”

“And if I had won?” he asked, a foreign pain searing through his heart at her lack of faith in his ability, in his honour. His promise to her. But then again, he hadn’t won. She had needed the failsafe.

“We couldn’t risk it,” she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes. “We knew there would be sacrifices.”

“And Skaikru always comes first,” he sneered as he glared at her.

“Humanity came first,” Clarke insisted quietly. “That never changed.”

“There was more to humanity than Skaikru,” Roan said firmly. “You were not better than us, more entitled to survive.”

“No, we weren’t,” she acknowledged and he wished he could believe her.

She fell silent and he was thankful she didn’t try to explain herself any further. His stomach picked that moment to lurch making him cough. She looked down immediately as his body started to reject the meagre meal he’d had.

“Hang on,” she said, moving to pick something up from the floor.

He didn’t do anything to object as she helped him vomit into the bucket she’d grabbed. The effort he expended emptying his belly once again left him too exhausted to think any further about how and why things had happened. He didn’t do much more than blink up at her as she cleaned his face for him, too exhausted and weak to feel ashamed of himself before he gave himself over to the inky blackness of unconsciousness again.

*~*~*

“He’s awake, Bellamy!” Clarke said, crying openly in the lab. “He’s awake. He’s weak and exhausted and angry but he’s awake.”

Clarke took her thumb off the receiver for a moment to allow the heavy sob of relief to tear through her.

“I can’t tell you much,” she continued. “I just wanted you to know. I’m not alone. He’s got a long way to go but- Roan’s  _ alive _ .”

Clarke ended the radio call with that, putting the receiver back. She couldn’t formulate anything else she was feeling into words so she’d be better off leaving it another day. There was still so much to do. Right now she needed to find some spare clothes and fresh towels and sheets. She needed to fix the generator so they could access the water. That was why she’d come out here in the first place. To grab the manual and bring it back to read at his bedside. Roan would probably wake again soon.

Clarke grabbed some clothes from one of the rooms that looked like they would fit him. Probably pyjamas from the look of them but that was suited to the purpose she supposed. The saline bag was empty now and she’d cleaned up the vomit.

“Are you awake?” she asked softly as she re-entered the room, putting the generator manual and clothes down on her mattress. His eyes were open again and tracking her progress. “I’ve brought some more soup. I think it’s best to stick to liquids for now.”

“What’s that?” he asked, glancing at the book. Or her mattress, she wasn’t sure.

“The instructions for fixing the generator,” she said, kneeling down beside him and adjusting the pillow to help him sit up. “I’ll go out and work on it once you’ve eaten.”

“I’m fine,” he said and she actually huffed in laughter.

“You’re not,” she said, giving him a look he glared at. “I’m going to take your IV out. We don’t have any more saline and I’m not sure if I can make more.”

“What does it do?” he asked, watching as she took his hand, now warm in her own and carefully detached the bag. She focussed on pulling out the cannula and pressed down on the small entry point to stem the bleeding as she opened a small bandage.

“It’s essentially water and salt,” she explained. “What your body needs to stay hydrated. If I didn’t have any and you didn’t wake up to drink, I’m not sure you would have made it.”

“How did you get me in here?” he asked, apparently more aware now and wanting to understand what was happening. She sat down beside him and got the soup and spoon so she could feed him as she filled him in.

“I lifted you into a chair,” she said. “It had wheels to push you in here.”

“I thought you could barely move,” he said in between spoonfuls, a suspicious glint she wished she didn’t understand in his pale eyes.

“Well, barely doesn’t mean not at all,” she said, breaking eye contact. “It wasn’t easy.”

“It’s not possible,” he insisted and she sighed.

“There have been documented cases throughout history of feats of strength,” she said, focusing her eyes on the soup and his lips rather than his too intent eyes. “Mothers have lifted objects off children that would normally have been impossible. Adrenaline surges and you can do things you wouldn’t normally be able to do.”

He didn’t say anything in response to her explanation but she kept avoiding his eyes until he’d finished the soup. Once she’d set the bowl down she took a deep breath and braced herself before she did. She found him looking contemplative rather than intent to her surprise but she wasn’t sure what to make of their relationship now. There was a deep fracture between them. Something that no longer fit the way it used to.

“And you’ve slept in here?” he asked, making her nod.

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” she said softly. “What- what do you remember?”

“Luna,” he said plainly, voice emotionless. “It started to rain, got in my eyes, threw me off. She drowned me in a fountain. Or almost did.”

“Then how?” Clarke asked, knowing he was even less likely to know.

“Echo,” he said, holding her eyes. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“She followed us from Polis,” Clarke said, frowning. “But why wouldn’t she bring you?”

“I don’t know,” Roan said simply. “Why would she risk her life to bring me out of the Conclave after I banished her?”

“You-“ Clarke started but cut herself off at the look in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“She interfered,” he said sharply, eyes alive with pain. “She betrayed Azgeda.”

Clarke shut her mouth and looked away, wondering what he thought of her now after hearing that. If he’d banished Echo for betraying him, what could she do to earn his trust again? How could she ask his forgiveness now?

“Thank you,” he said and she snapped her head to look at him. “For saving my life.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, feeling a wave of sickness rise at the thought. There was something wrong about him thanking her for that. 

“Regardless of what happened before the Conclave,” he continued. “You saved my life. Thank you.”

“It was the least I could do,” she whispered, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. “You should rest. If you keep the soup down today I’ll make you something more solid tomorrow.”

“Clarke-“ he said, his hand settling over her own. She pulled away and shook her head, not ready to discuss whatever had happened. Not ready for his anger. His disappointment.

“Later- we’ll have time,” she whispered. “Bellamy and the others can’t return for at least five years. We can’t open the bunker until then either.”

Roan let her escape at her words. Clarke wondered if maybe he wasn’t ready to hash it all out either. For now they needed to focus on getting him better. She’d need Roan to help her dig them out. It wasn’t impossible on her own, but it would be hard.

Clarke grabbed the toolkit and the manual and set off to the generator bay, fresh determination hurrying her steps. She’d get them working again. Then she’d check the water. Maybe tomorrow Roan would be strong enough to get to a bath.

*~*~*

“Day 10. I’m officially going to stop guessing how long we were out. So day ten it is. I hope you guys have figured out the systems and can look at starting up the algae farm. Monty should know what to do. Even if I’m not certain that you made it up, I know beyond a doubt that you’ll be able to survive up there. You’ve got Monty and Raven. Between them I swear they could do anything they wanted to. 

Things are progressing here too. First day without pain right when I woke up. I think that means I’ve assimilated most of the radiation. I’m also hungry for the first time. So that’s good. 

Roan is recovering. Talking a little. Less than I’m used to but probably - I know it will take him time. I should be happy enough that he’s awake and talking to me at all, I know that - but - never mind. We’ll make it through. He’s healing well, in less pain today and keeping food down. I got the generators working but I can’t get the pump to produce any more water. It may be blocked and I’m not sure what I can do about that. Wait until Roan’s able to help a little. 

Coming! Sorry Bellamy, I’ve got to go. Roan is trying to walk by himself again, no matter what I tell him he won’t listen. Same time tomorrow?”

*~*~*

“Roan’s up and frustrated that I won’t let him go outside yet. But he’s only been out of bed for a few days. Honestly that man - 

I’ll need his help to see if we can figure out how to actually leave this place. I’ve managed to look outside, but like I’ve told you, there’s a big block of cement blocking us from actually leaving the lab. I’m sure if I had to I could squeeze through, but Roan’s bigger and it’s a bit of a risk not knowing what’s out there. From what I can see the world is dry. Becca claimed that 96% of the planet would be inhospitable so there must be somewhere, right?

What are the odds that we can find it? We’re talking about what we’re going to do once we run low on food. We can’t stay here.

We can’t just give up. I like to think that we’ll manage to magically find this oasis somewhere nearby. I know that probably won’t happen. Maybe these will be the last few calls I manage to make to you. But I’m trying to stay positive. Go down fighting. Roan did once. I have to try.”

*~*~*~

“Day 26. We’ve got a couple of weeks left of water. Less food. We need to go soon. See if there is anything. We managed to clear the large block of concrete yesterday so we can now get out of here comfortably. 

How does it look from up there? Can you point us in the right direction? If the Rover still works then we’ve got a shot at finding somewhere, but if we’re stuck on foot - I don’t know if I should tell Roan. I mean, I know I should. He’s not an idiot but saying it - 

The king is fully recovered and so am I. He’s training at the moment, I guess it helps with the boredom of just waiting. It does wear on you. And we’ve got five years of it. God, I hope we don’t kill each other. I doubt I’d survive this time. 

We’re making plans to move. I’ll have the portable radio and it’s still rigged up from Raven so it should be as good as this big system. We’ll see.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to post twice a week, but well, the next few days are super busy so I just went ahead. Thank you to everyone who has left comments and given me kudos. Love you all!
> 
> Thanks, as always, to [B](https://tumblr.com/%5Bbeta's_tumblr_name%5D) for making my words make more sense than before. You are a star!

Roan stretched out his spine, muscles warm and tired after a round of exercises. He was finally feeling more like himself. Stronger. More capable. He didn’t fatigue after half the work he’d normally manage. He could hear Clarke moving around in the kitchen and he went to find her, knowing it was time to make a plan for leaving. He was in two minds about it. There were still floors in this place they hadn’t explored yet but he agreed with Clarke that if they wanted a hope of finding anything, they needed to leave soon. Take what supplies they had left and pray to whatever gods there might be for a miracle. 

“How do you feel?” she asked as soon as she saw him and he was torn between a smile and a scowl. He wondered how long it would take the worry to fade from her eyes every time she set them on him.

“Good,” he answered. She frowned at him as if evaluating his answer but he’d been out of bed for two weeks now and she’d checked him over enough times to know he was almost himself again..

“Any luck?” he asked, seeing the tool kit spread out, the manual open on the counter. She shook her head.

“Either the bore is dry or something has happened with the pump,” she said with a sigh. “We have at most another couple of weeks of water.”

“Food?” Roan asked as he looked over the map she’d found.

“To eat sustainably?” She sighed. “A week. If we ration to the bare minimum, two.”

“So we have to go,” he confirmed, looking over the map wondering what they would find once they got to the surface. “What are our chances?”

“Better than if we stay,” she said, joining him while looking at the map. “We should go to Polis first. See what’s happened there. They can’t open the bunker, but-“

“You want to know,” he understood. Polis was their best chance at maybe finding  _ something _ . At least there may be something left. Something they could scavenge.

“Then if that’s a bust, we can go to Arkadia,” she continued, pointing to the old Skaikru lands. “There may be some tech there. Or some water and food we can scavenge.”

“Okay,” he nodded, running the calculations in his mind. Without horses it would take them days to walk that far. “We won’t make it.”

“The Rover is here,” Clarke pointed to the riverbank. “We did our best to make sure it was safe for when we came back. It runs on solar power so as long as there is  _ some _ light the panels will work.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Roan asked, not trusting the vehicle.

“Then we’re fucked,” she said plainly and it was surprising enough to force him to press his lips together to fight his smile. “We will do everything we can to get it to work. It’s our best chance. We’ll be able to explore the whole Coalition with it. Without it, we’re as good as dead out there.”

Roan nodded. That meant it was time to prepare. Pack their supplies and set enough aside here if they needed to come back. Maybe they needed to abandon that idea all together.

“We’ll need as much protection from the wind as possible,” he said, making her look up in surprise. “You said we don’t know how the weather has changed?”

“No, we don’t,” she agreed. “We can take the sheets, make hoods, scarves, cowls. Maybe keep some for bedding. I don’t know when or if we can come back so we should take as much as we can.”

“How much weight will you be able to carry?” he asked and she shrugged. “What do we have to carry supplies in?”

“We’ll have to find something,” she said and with that she wandered off to search the rooms.

It took them the whole day to gather everything that could be useful and arrange it by necessity. He understood her desire to take the medical supplies but they would need to be sparing. Clarke had found a large pack he filled with bottles of water he wasn’t sure he trusted. He missed the old waterskin he’d carried since he’d started warrior training but it was probably destroyed along with most of the world they used to know.

They spent the evening fashioning protective clothing from old bed sheets and the clothes left by whomever built the house. By the time he went to bed that evening he was satisfied they were as prepared as they could be. Clarke wanted to take another day but as far as he was concerned, they were better off if they left in search of whatever there was to find. No sense in hiding in here. It was better to confront whatever was coming for them. Even if that meant death from starvation in the wasteland above.

*~*~*

“At least we don’t have to swim,” Clarke said looking out over the dry riverbed that had once been water surrounding Becca’s Island. “And now we know the bore is probably dry.”

“All the more reason to go,” Roan said, pulling the cowl over his face, Clarke doing the same to keep the dust at bay.

“This way,” she said, setting off in the direction of where the Rover was located.

Roan followed beside her, head moving around to search for any danger. Things had somewhat settled between them. He hadn’t brought up the past and neither had she. He knew better however, there was something festering below the surface, it was why she still jumped when he surprised her. Like she was waiting for something. Just as he was. Once they found somewhere they could survive, they’d eventually have to talk about what happened. Either that or spend the next five years living like strangers. Roan wasn’t sure he’d be able to do that with her.

“Here!” Clarke said, voice bright with excitement when they found a couple of small statues that had somehow survived the elements.

All Roan saw was a pile of sand but Clarke practically tore the shovel from her pack as she dug into the soft ground. He was a little slower in taking off his own pack, frowning as she dug intently into the sand but soon he heard her strike something hard. She kept digging, pushing the sand aside with her hands and uncovering something recognizable.

“It’s here,” she said, looking back at him. “It’ll take a while to dig out, but it’s here.”

He nodded and started digging too. It took less time than he thought it would before they had the Rover finally cleared of sand and it looked in surprisingly good order for something buried for some time.

“It’s okay,” she said as they stepped away from the uncovered vehicle.

“Will it work?” he asked as she opened the door and climbed inside, not quite sure he was ready to trust their opportunity.

“Only one way to find out,” she said, pressing a couple of buttons and turning a knob beside the wheel. The engine surged but spluttered for a moment and Roan had no idea what that meant.

“One more try,” she mumbled as she tried again and this time the engine started, the lights illuminating the desolate dusty landscape around them as Clarke cheered.

“Well done, Wanheda,” he said, knowing the title irked her, but it helped him keep her at a distance at times like these. When her smile made it a little harder to remember that she hadn’t trusted him when it counted. It always made her expression falter for a moment and he pushed down the twinge of guilt in his chest at hurting her.

It didn’t take long to load the large packs of supplies they had carried into the back of the vehicle. Roan was relieved Clarke had insisted that they could always dump the excess if the Rover didn’t work because now they had enough water to last them a few days at least and food to ration for a short while. They also managed to bring enough cloth for sheets and makeshift bedding in the back, but it would mean sleeping in very close quarters unless they found somewhere else. It was a small worry among the rest that plagued him as the duo set off into the new world they had found themselves in. 

*~*~*~*

_ Thank the spirits for the Rover. _ A thought Roan had never expected to have. But judging by the burnt, desolate world around them, they wouldn’t have survived the trip here without it. There was nothing but ash and sand anywhere he looked, the air smelled like sulphur and smoke, his lungs aching from it all. He had no idea what they would find once they got to Polis. Or whatever was left of it. Considering what they were driving through now, he wasn’t sure they’d find much. 

“We should be able to see something soon,” Clarke said and he kept his eyes on the horizon. She was right; they should have seen the tower by now. 

They drove on, closing in on Polis and the bunker and it was soon evident that it had been destroyed as well. Clarke gasped when the ruins of the tower came into view, pushing them faster to reach their destination. Roan already knew that it was going to be impossible. Unless by some miracle the tower had collapsed off to one side, the entry to the bunker would be buried under its weight.

“Clarke-“ he said as she sprang out of the door, running off in the direction of the entry. 

He watched her climb up to the top of the pile of rubble that had been the tower of Polis. Where he had sat and presided over the Coalition. Where Ontari had died. Where he had first been asked to find the blonde now standing and looking back at him.

“It’s here,” she said, kneeling down. “We just have to dig them out.”

“It’s impossible,” he said as she started dragging pieces of rubble away. “There is too much here, Clarke.”

“We have to try,” she insisted. 

He humoured her for a while, knowing how important it was to see the futility of your actions. Her hands were torn and bleeding by the time the panic set in a little more in her eyes. They could see the metal infrastructure of the bunker, exposed by torn rock and stone but the door was buried too deep. 

“Roan! Please!” She cried and it tore a little at him. 

He may not know how to deal with everything but he still couldn’t watch her pain. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to do that. 

“Clarke,” he said softly as he laid his hands on her shoulders. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Mom!” She cried, picking up a rock and smashing it against a piece of the metal infrastructure, the sound echoing in the air around them. “We’re here! I’m alive. We’ll find a way to get you out!”

“Clarke,” he tried again, kneeling down behind her, wanting desperately to wrap his arms around her and hold her close. He would have if things were different. If he could trust himself not to let her get too close again. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, slumping forward. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come on,” he said, squeezing her shoulders. “Let’s see what we can find. We’ll come back.”

“Why would we?” she asked and he frowned at her. “What’s the point?”

“Because we can,” he said. ”Because it’s the right thing to do. Because there will be supplies here to help us.”

She blinked at him but slowly got onto her feet. He watched her face for a long moment, seeing the hopelessness set in. This was not what she’d expected to find and he wondered for a moment what she had. Had she wanted to come here and force them to open the doors and let her inside? Would that have been possible without killing everyone? He had no idea. The bunker was still a mystery to him, it was why he’d resolved to keep enough spots to include Skaikru in Azgeda’s numbers if he won. He knew that no kru would survive without them. But Clarke had not seen fit to trust him in that knowledge.

“Come on,” he said gruffly, not wanting to get lost in thoughts he didn’t have time to address. “Let’s see what we can find.”

“You think we can find anything?” she asked, finally looking past the entry to the bunker to the ruins around them. “Everything is destroyed.”

“We won’t know until we look,” he pointed out and moved off to the very base of the tower.

Roan left Clarke to wander on her own, keeping his ears open to any sound of alarm, but the two of them explored separately for a few hours. He’d managed to find a small store of weapons and took the swords and knives, binding them in a long strip of leather. He must be near the armory. Polis should be a treasure trove, if they gave themselves time to go through it. But they needed food and water. A place to survive. Until they knew they could live, searching for comforts was pointless.

“Anything?” she asked as he found her back at the Rover. He raised the bag of swords and she rubbed her forehead. “Then we go to Arkadia. There may be something.”

“Once we find a place to stay,” Roan said, loading the weapons into the back of the Rover. “We’ll come back here and search the ruins.”

“For what?” she asked hopelessly.

“What we need,” he said pointedly. “This is not the time for pity, Clarke.”

“Right,” she said bitterly. “We’re alone in a wasteland with no food or water. When exactly is the time for pity?”

“When there is no more hope,” he said firmly, turning before she had a chance to respond and climbing into the passenger side. He didn’t want to be the one who held her hand through this. He was struggling enough with the knowledge that what was left of his people, if any of his people were left, were buried under a building it would take them a lifetime to uncover.

*~*~*

“There’s nothing we can do. Bellamy - I - I had hoped that there would have been a way - Polis is destroyed. We’re here, the Rover works but we won’t be able to get inside. It’s impossible. I knew as soon as I saw that we wouldn’t - but I had to try. 

I needed to know - the bunker should have held - but - Fuck! Why couldn’t we just be able to access the door? I need - 

I’m sorry, Bellamy. We’re going to try to find somewhere. We can’t stay. There’s nothing but ruins and sand. We need water. We just need to find water.”

*~*~*

The ruins of Polis had been more shocking for her. It had been a harsh lesson in what to expect from the new world. Or from what wasn’t left of their old one. Arkadia wasn’t intact but it wasn’t destroyed in the same way that Polis had been. It was reduced to piles of rubble and parts and if she’d known they had somewhere to go she’d have been more invested in the things she found on the ground.

“I found something,” Roan’s voice made her look over to where he carried a large bag. She frowned and moved over to his side, hoping it was food or something to get them through.

“Medical supplies,” she said as he held it open for her inspection. It was something. Not much, but something. There was still no food, no water. They were getting desperate now that they’d run out of the meagre rations they’d had with them.

Clarke returned her attention to the locked box she’d found, curious as to what would be inside of it and smashed the lock off with the end of her shovel. Roan sat down to watch her and she’d object to his scrutiny if he didn’t look so tired. They needed food. They were desperate for water.

“Oh,” she said when she uncovered a familiar pair of goggles and realised whose things she’d found.

She pulled out a music player, the worn label claiming ownership and making her heart beat painfully in her chest. The guilt was still heavy every time she remembered the Mountain and most especially Maya. She saw a piece of paper addressed to Monty and as much as she wanted to keep it private for him, she couldn’t resist. She unfolded the letter, scanning the words Jasper had written, tears welling up and falling, her breath catching in her chest.

“Oh, Jasper,” she whispered, inhaling sharply, feeling Roan’s eyes on her but he remained silent. She appreciated that he didn’t ask anything, that he didn’t pry. She appreciated the hand he laid on her knee as she closed her eyes and wiped roughly at her cheeks even more.

*~*~*

They had been driving practically non-stop for a whole day and it was looking dire. His lips were cracked and he was starting to feel the pull of exhaustion. He felt brittle and he’d never quite experienced that before. His mind was sluggish, feeling heavy and filled with straw. It was starting to worry him. He glanced over at Clarke who was focusing on the road ahead but he saw the strain around her eyes.

“Where are we going?” he asked, eyes on the sky as it darkened above them. He was finding it difficult to tell time now, the thick layer of dust in the atmosphere muted the sun.

“Anywhere,” she shook her head, glancing over at him and he saw the panic in her eyes. “We can stop and check the map.”

“Sure,” he said, not sure how it would help. They still couldn’t see what was left without physically going on but she must need a break. He wouldn’t deny her that.

Clarke stopped the Rover and leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes for a moment. Roan needed to walk, keep moving to distract himself from the grating thirst that was starting to become more difficult to ignore so he threw open the door and hopped out. He frowned when he did, looking around. The air felt different. Heavier.

“Clarke?” he said, looking up at the skeletal canopy above him.

Just as she stepped out of the door, the first cool drop landed on his head and he looked up at the sky. The first drop was followed by another and within seconds rain was pouring from the sky and Clarke was laughing beside him. They filled as many containers as they had and both drank greedily. He’d never been as thankful to be wet as he was now.

The following day they were heading north, Clarke had reasoned that he knew Azgeda and maybe there would be something there he could find. Now that they’d finally found water, and had enough for a few days, it only left him feeling his hunger once again. They needed to find something or they would truly be left with nothing.

“What?” Clarke frowned as something hit the windshield. “The fuck?”

“Bugs,” Roan said as a few more splattered against the window, bracing himself as Clarke stopped abruptly. She hopped out of the cab, moving to the front to see.

“Got bigger problems,” Roan said, eyes on a wall of cloud behind her just as thunder ripped through the sky.

“Shit,” Clarke swore, looking in the direction he was pointing. She froze, just as he did, the storm moving rapidly towards them and soon enough it was whipping around them and they scrambled to get back inside the Rover.

“The solar panels,” Clarke said, sounding panicked as she wound up the window. “Without them, the Rover won’t run.”

“Got it,” Roan said, grabbing his scarf and wrapping it around his face, before getting out of the car. 

He tried. 

They both did, but trying to remove the panels only ended in the loss of one and when the storm had passed they discovered they had nothing. The panels were damaged beyond repair.

“We’ll have to go to the solar fields,” Clarke said, pointing at the map but Roan didn’t know how they would make it that far and back again. Not with more supplies. “Get new panels and reattach them. It’s an easy fix.”

“Let’s go,” Roan said, knowing they had no other choice. Without the Rover they wouldn’t make it.

They had been walking for hours and the sun was getting unbearably hot. Roan set down the pack and Clarke collapsed onto the sand beside him. He wished he knew where to go, what to do because right now it looked grim. They didn’t have any water left. He felt as dried out as the earth around them.

“It’s hopeless,” Clarke whispered. “I’m sorry, Roan. We should have stayed.”

“And starved on the island?” he asked, sinking down to his knees to rest and try to think. “We are better off trying.”

“Trying what?” she asked, glaring at him. “There’s nothing here, Roan. If we had the Rover, maybe we’d have a chance but now-.”

She pulled out the gun she’d taken from Arkadia and tossed it onto the sand between them. It made something violent and angry sear through his blood. She wasn’t giving up. Not yet. Not when there was still some chance. He just needed time. It felt like there was something that should be obvious but between his hunger and his thirst it was hard to focus.

“No, Clarke,” he growled. “I’m no coward.”

“I didn’t think I was either,” she said, looking away from him. “But what’s the point? At least this way –“

“What?” he asked, feeling his own anger and frustration burn. “It will be quick? If you give up now you don’t deserve an easy death, Wanheda.”

He spit the title at her like he had in the past. He’d never thought much of it. She had no more power over life and death than he did. But he knew how much she hated the word. And words and titles had power.

“I’m not-“ she started, shaking her head.

“Not giving up?” he asked, gesturing at the weapon he loathed and feared. “ _ That _ is cowardice.”

She blinked at him before she hung her head, body showing every sign of desolation and exhaustion. But there was something in him pushing him on. They just needed to keep going. A little longer. While they still could. There must have been some reason he was saved from the Conclave. And it wasn’t to die in a desert. It wasn’t to see the woman beside him cower in fear of nothingness like she was now. If nothing else he wanted to push her on until they truly had nothing else left inside of them. Roan moved to kneel before her, taking her hand in his own and waited until she looked up at him in surprise.

“This  _ meant _ something to me, Clarke,” he whispered harshly into her ear as he clasped her hand, their twin scars pressed against each other. “I won’t let you just give up.”

“I deserve it,” she argued weakly. “After everything I’ve done, I don’t deserve to survive.”

“You  _ owe _ me, Wanheda,” he continued. “You broke your oath to me and I demand your life for it.”

“Then kill me,” she said, tears he didn’t think she had enough water left for spilling out of her eyes. “Please.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You owe me your life.”

“That’s not how it works, Roan!” She cried, a spark of life in her eyes. “There’s nothing here. This is it. We either die now or collapse an hour from now. Either way the only ones who live are the vultures who’ll pick our corpses dry.”

“Vultures?” he asked, looking up to see two large carcass-eaters circling them.

He watched the birds for a long moment as Clarke tore her hand from his and buried her face in her hands. If there were birds there must be something. They’d never seen any life this large before. He racked his memories trying to remember what there was nearby here. A sudden flash of a peaceful valley seared through his mind.

“Louwoda Kliron,” he breathed out, trying to get his bearings. “Clarke, get up.”

“Roan,” she sighed but he pulled her to her feet, cupping her face in his hands, forcing her to hold his eyes. He needed her to do one more thing.

“Trust me, Clarke,” he urged her. “I have always trusted you.”

“I-“ she started, obviously about to argue. “What?”

“Follow me,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her along behind him, pulling the cowl of his jacket over his face. He interlaced their fingers, grabbing the pack of supplies before he headed off in the direction of the valley. To the place he’d been saved once before. He could only pray to the Spirits above that it would save him once again.


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke pushed her legs harder to try and follow Roan’s long strides but her muscles ached, her head was spinning and the world was starting to get a little dark at the edges. The sand was moving below her feet making it hard to get her balance.

“Roan,” she said, tugging at her hand. “I’m not-“

“Just a little further, Clarke,” he insisted, looking back at her. “Just a little more, then you can rest.”

She bit down on her tongue and pushed harder, not knowing why she was but she owed him this much. She heard a rushing sound but she assumed it was the blood in her ears as she stumbled and fell onto her knees. Roan was pulled to an abrupt stop but when she looked over at him he was smiling. Not only smiling but looking overjoyed. She’d never seen something that incredible before.

“You’re-“ she whispered, frowning at him, the world tilting a little as he pulled her back onto her feet and grasped her shoulders to steady her.

“Look, Clarke,” he said, pulling her up onto the last ridge so she could see what he was looking down at.

She frowned at him, still trying to make sense of the smile on his face until she turned to look. A line of trees at the bottom of the sloping sand, the vultures that had followed them the last few hours soaring above them. She listened harder then, hearing the rushing noise once more but this time she wondered.

“Is that?” she asked, she couldn’t say the word. If she said it and it wasn’t then this was all a hallucination and they were going to die. There was a green valley, spared from the desolation around them, alive with life.

“Water,” he confirmed, pulling her. “Come on, Clarke.”

“How?” she asked, hurrying her steps. Her muscles ached but it was easier now, they were going somewhere. There was life. There was  _ something _ .

“Louwoda Kliron,” Roan said and she remembered the name and him saying it. “Shallow Valley.”

“It’s not possible,” she whispered but she followed him, his steps getting longer and faster as they reached the trees. She reached out a hand and touched the trunk and it was real and solid. There were flowers and the low buzz of insects, the air pungent after so many days in the burnt desert. There was  _ life  _ here. Roan tugged her along, the sound of water getting louder and her body had the same need.

“Look,” he said as they emerged on a small boulder, overlooking a small river.

Clarke’s jaw dropped open and she laughed out loud. Water. There was water. She looked over to find Roan still smiling, shrugging the heavy pack off his shoulders and there was only one thing she could think of doing. She stripped out of her clothing and jumped in, emerging seconds later to hear a splash beside her.

She closed her eyes and smiled up at the sky, still laughing at their luck. The water was cold and it wasn’t long before she started to shiver but she was wet and there was something to drink. She looked over at Roan who looked like a god of old, shirtless and dripping wet, hair slicked back as he cupped his palms and drank deeply and the question she’d had was answered as she also drank, too thirsty to care. Once her belly was full of water she couldn’t help but throw her arms around Roan, hugging him close.

He stiffened against her and it was almost enough to make her pull away immediately, but she waited for a breath and felt his shoulders drop. She smiled out at the trees that surrounded them, too relieved to worry about this being wrong. His arms came around her slowly, hugging her close, pressing her against all that glorious wet skin and Clarke felt a twist deep in her belly.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you for pushing me.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” he returned in a whisper. “The village should be another ten minutes down that path.”

“What do you think we’ll find?” she asked as she pulled away, wishing touching him hadn’t left her feeling so out of sorts. She’d have to blame it on the near death experience if she planned on keeping her sanity.

“Think anyone would have survived if they missed the death wave?” he asked in return as they waded back to the water’s edge and their belongings. Clarke didn’t bother putting her pants back on, but slid her feet into her boots and shouldered the smaller pack.

“It’s not the death wave, it’s the radiation,” she said with a shake of her head as Roan led the way down the path he’d indicated earlier. She looked around curiously, the vegetation getting denser, birds chirping in the canopy. It was almost surreal. Like the Garden of Eden.

“Then we will find a lot of bodies,” he said quietly, looking around them as they walked. “The village was small, the clan was one of the smallest in the Coalition.”

“They were farmers?” Clarke asked as they passed a cleared area that looked to be a field of some kind of grain.

“Yes,” he said, the path getting wider, more well-worn and colourful bands of material started appearing along the perimeter.

Once the first small hut came into view there was a slightly stagnant, sweet smell that was pervasive and heavy in the air. It twisted her belly and she covered her mouth and nose. The pair discovered the first body only moments later, laying at the edge of the path. It was impossible to tell if it had been a man or woman, the body already badly decomposed and Clarke feared there would be worse yet to be found. 

“Oh,” Clarke sighed, her heart breaking as they found the remains of two small children huddled together near a ladder that led up to a lookout post.

“There will be more,” Roan said, setting the pack down and pulling out a couple of scarves. “And there will be many children.”

The village contained the remains of forty-five villagers, mostly children and elderly. Roan immediately set himself to building a large funeral pyre before they both started moving the bodies as best as they could. It was a long and gruesome task. Clarke was thankful she didn’t have much in her belly as she retched in the bushes after moving the last body she’d found in pieces. Most were too decomposed to hold together properly and she was thankful Roan had done most of the heavy lifting. If she’d been alone it would have taken her more than a day. She found herself thankful that many had opted to remain indoors and they were able to condemn a couple of the larger huts to being burned along with the funeral pyre, the decomposition too advanced for any other option. The burning of the huts would have to wait until morning however as night started to fall around them. 

“I’ll go get some water,” Roan said standing beside her, watching the thick black smoke rise in the darkening night. “We need to wash off after moving them.”

“I know,” Clarke agreed. “I’ll move the tub next to the fire.”

As the funeral pyre burned at the edge of the village, Clarke pulled a large tub out from the bathing hut set near the centre of the small clutch of buildings. She had found a small store of dried fish and fruit which would have to get them through the night. They would have to find more tomorrow. Roan came back with two heavy buckets of water, filling the tub before setting off to get more. Adjusting to life here would take time, but at least she wasn’t alone. When he returned with the next load of water Clarke filled a large pot with some and set it on the coals to boil, at least they would have a warm bath.

After they had eaten and bathed they searched a couple of the huts, picking one that had been empty and wouldn’t require airing out to sleep in for the night. The morning would bring more work, more clearing and searching the small village for things they could use. And then the real work of surviving would begin. Clarke sighed as she closed her eyes, the weight of her full belly making her tired and a little sick but the slow, steady, breathing of the man beside her made it all just a little easier to bear.

*~*~*

“After my last call you must have thought you’d never hear from me again. 

I won’t lie, Bellamy, I thought it was hopeless. I’d like to say that even if I’d been alone I would have pushed on that last little bit but I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t matter now. We found it!

The small part of the world that managed to survive. It’s beautiful. And we have food. And water. Houses to sleep in. You’ll love it. Especially after so long in space. I don’t envy you being back up there - well not anymore - a few days ago I would have given almost anything to be with you. Now I can’t wait for you all to get here. 

I doubt even Murphy will be able to complain for the first few days. Well, there’s a lot of work to do. But we should be able to grow food and we will do what we can to set things up for when everyone gets back. 

We did it. We’re here. And now all we have to do is wait.” 

*~*~*

She wanted to scream in frustration but bit down hard on her lip instead. Roan didn’t need to know how little Clarke actually knew about life on the ground. The classes in space had been a mockery of the truth. They hadn’t touched on how putrid spoiled meat smelled or how to figure out if dried meat was still safe to eat.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do this?” she whispered to herself as she looked at three large sides of meat hanging in what Roan had called a drying hut.

Clarke knew about butchering animals. About the life cycle of cows and sheep and chickens and how to slaughter all of them. That pork and chicken had to be cooked until the juices ran clear. Beef could be eaten bloody but best not to just in case it carried bacteria that generations spent in space made their bodies ill-equipped to fight.

“Got that right,” she mumbled remembering the first week on the ground and the hours of vomiting so many of the kids had endured from the poorly cooked meat and stomachs adjusting to animal protein. 

That was something else they hadn’t been prepared for. The smell of the outhouses and how strange water would taste down here. No chlorine or tinny aftertaste from being endlessly recycled. Water on the ground was cold, crisp and  _ alive _ . Sometimes literally as the delinquents who didn’t bother boiling the water they drank found out. Clarke’s lips split in a smile despite the circumstances. She’d told them to be careful. No one listened to her. So many sick kids, if the grounders had actually attacked them that first week they wouldn’t have had a chance.

Time at the trading post with Niylah could have taught her more about preserving food but Clarke had been too busy trying to hide to truly pay any attention. She’d always been able to barter for the dried beef and scant food she needed and knew enough botany to know what she could forage. Except for mushrooms. That was one thing she’d avoided at all costs. There was too much risk of mutation and some of the poisonous ones looked perfectly edible.

“Found anything, Wanheda?” Roan’s voice was closer than she wanted and Clarke shook herself so she could apply herself to the task. Three sides of animal meat, not large enough to be a cow and considering how removed they were, it must be venison. She leaned close, sniffing delicately at the meat but couldn’t tell if it had spoiled. It looked fine, but she didn’t know. There was no doubt about the pile of spoiled fish in the barrel in the corner however, the salt sealed and obviously ready to use.

“There’s deer,” she called out and immediately heard him approach. Light spilled into the hut as Roan entered, his steps halting beside her.

“It’s spoiled,” he said, not even bothering to inspect it closely.

“It looks fine,” she said, glancing up at him in the dim light in time to catch his incredulous look. “The fish isn’t, but-“

“How long were we at the lab?” Roan asked, moving past the hung meat with barely a glance, moving towards the large cupboard on the far wall.

“A month,” she said, running the numbers in her head. “Maybe not quite.”

“It’s spoiled,” he reiterated pulling out a large bundle from one of the shelves. “Even some of the rations of the lab were.”

“What do we do with it?” she asked, glancing dubiously at the carcasses, still wary of his certainty. It was cold in the drying hut, nearly frosty by some mechanics Clarke couldn’t understand. It would surely have held a while longer in such temperatures.

“Bury it,” the king said, opening another bundle. “How much do we have of this?”

Clarke wished she knew what ‘this’ was, but judging by the relaxed set of his shoulders it was unspoiled meat. Possibly dried fish. She’d gotten too distracted by the smell of rotting flesh and fish to take proper inventory of the stores. But she wasn’t about to admit it.

“Depends on how much we need,” she answered, hoping it was a vague enough answer. If all the bundles were full they had enough dried meat to make it through a couple of years if it lasted that long. But she had no idea how long it would last. Roan’s eyes cut over to her, his head angled in inquiry as he considered her answer.

“Would you rather go through the vegetables?” he asked after a heavy silence and Clarke swore she saw the barest flicker of an amused smirk but it could just have been a trick of the light.

“I can if you’re not comfortable,” she said, adding enough irritation into her tone to make it sound condescending. Roan’s response was a shake of his head before he turned back to the storage cupboard.

“I’ll move the spoiled meat out,” he said, replacing one of the bundles. “It is best to burn or bury it. I doubt there are cats left to bother us but I’d rather not deal with the flies.”

“I can help,” she said, immediately moving to do so but he stopped her with a look.

“It is easy enough to do on my own,” he said firmly, tone more command than request. “I’d rather know if we have enough in the grain stores or if we have to forage.”

“Alright,” she conceded, but not without a stubborn tilt to her chin. He turned his back on her as soon as she acquiesced to his instruction, an obvious dismissal as he continued the work in the dry meat stores.

Clarke did her best not to huff loud enough for him to hear her as she stalked out of the small hut and back into the afternoon light. The sunlight certainly brightened the air, but the atmosphere was still heavy with dust and pollution making it dull and more muted than it was before. Clarke wasn’t entirely certain what she should have expected for this particular time of the year, but the temperature was still mild enough, though the wind was icy some days, and the storms were unpredictable at best. She wished that Raven had told her more of what they should expect after opening the bunker but they had all assumed they would have time underground together. Clarke ignored the twinge of guilt and sorrow at the thought of her friends, worrying as always about whether or not they actually made it up to the ring. Whether she was talking to a ghost on the radio every day. If Bellamy had even a remote chance to hear her.

Looking up at the pale sky above her, she knew it was unlikely. The cloud layer would be too thick for such a simple radio to penetrate, but she hoped Raven had rigged something to work. At least they’d know then-

“Stop it,” she exhaled sharply, blinking against the tears that stung her eyes. “Food. Check the stores. We need to know what needs to be done.”

Clarke sped up her steps toward the large cellar they’d found that morning where the village had obviously kept their supply of vegetables and grain. They were lucky, Clarke recognized that. Even if she had been alone in the village she would have been able to find enough food to get by for months before she’d have to plan for the future. Roan seemed more than capable and knowledgeable about how to run a village. Not that his knowledge should surprise her. He was raised to lead a whole nation, but she was still surprised that he’d taken to cleaning and inventory as efficiently as he had. If she didn’t know him, she’d never guess he was a king. A warrior, sure. There was something innate in how he moved that screamed predator and not prey. But a  _ king _ ? Not with the wear on his hands and the ease with which he went to fetch water from the stream for them to drink each morning. Not with the relentless exploration and organisation of everything he found that may be of the slightest use going forward. He lived like a man accustomed to making use of what he had. Not a man coddled and raised to rule who expected others to do the menial tasks.

Then there were the times he watched her, eyes never missing a detail. The times he stood in silence thinking about things Clarke couldn’t begin to guess at. When he trained with an intensity unknown to her. Or like before in the hut, when he spoke and knew his word would be heeded. Then he was every inch the ruler of a brutal warrior nation.

Clarke shook herself from her thoughts as her eyes adjusted to the dim light in the cellar. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply of the rich air. It smelled of earth and the barrel of sweet apples that sat closest to the door. A slight mustiness made the air heavy but the way it filled her lungs made Clarke’s shoulders drop fractionally, her nerves inexplicably soothed.

“Time to get on with it, Griffin,” she said as she moved to the left-hand side of the cellar. “Or he’ll really think you’re useless.”

Clarke forced her mind to her task, inspecting each crate and barrel to see what they contained and found that they had provisions to last them for years if it all kept as it was now. She assumed that was unlikely and they had learned all about the treachery of mold and rot in space and how it could devastate a village for years after one spoiled harvest. It would pay to be vigilant to any sign of anything amiss. There were containers of preserved food on a long table, but Clarke couldn’t quite make out what most of it was. She didn’t know how to even set about planning meals and deciding what to save for planting. How to save seeds for planting. She sighed again.

“Be happy you were spared the barrel of fish,” Roan’s voice came from the top of the stairs making her jump in surprise. She couldn’t make out his expression, he was silhouetted against the entry to the cellar, but she could practically hear the raised brow and slight mocking smirk he was surely shooting her.

“That didn’t take long,” she said, turning back to the crate of potatoes she had been looking at.

“It was not as efficient as I would have liked,” he commented, joining her inside. “We’ll need to check those, but it seems the cellar held well and most of this should be good.”

“How do you know if they’re bad?” Clarke conceded to ask him, looking at the potato in her hand. “It seems fresh.”

“They can’t be too soft,” he said, eyes softer than normal when he looked at her. “No black spots. If the skin is green they may make you ill.”

“And if they sprout you can’t eat them?” she asked, frowning as she tried to remember her lessons. Roan shook his head to her surprise.

“It depends,” he answered, picking up one with a couple of small sprouts starting to form. “If they are new like these, it is fine. But left too long and they aren’t good to eat.”

Clarke nodded, a little off-kilter when faced with gentle instruction rather than the derision that she was expecting. She picked up another potato from the crate, turning it over to examine it and finding it firm but still covered in rich, dark earth. The scents of the cellar flooded her senses once more as she rubbed the simple root vegetable between her fingers, dislodging some of the earth and exposing the taut skin. It didn’t appear green, but colours were muted in the low light leaving Clarke to assume she’d have to inspect it closer above ground. She looked over at the various crates filled with an array of vegetables and fruits she’d already inventoried and wondered how long it would take for this knowledge to become second nature to her.

“Take enough for stew, Wanheda,” the king said, passing a small basket to her before reaching into one of the crates for onions. “There is enough meat to last us.”

“To last us how long?” Clarke frowned, filling the basket with potatoes before Roan took it from her, adding onions and vegetables from two other crates. She recognized a carrot but the other root she couldn’t see clearly enough to identify.

“Years,” he said succinctly, inclining his chin toward the entry to the cellar. “They must have recently finished their winter preparations and finished salting.”

“What about the deer?” Clarke asked as they moved toward the large fire pit near the centre of the village.

It was the natural area set aside for food preparation. There were plenty of tables and surfaces to prepare food for a much larger group of people, it was close to the fire and the small communal bathhouse. There was still much to explore in the village, many empty huts filled with the scattering of personal effects of lives interrupted, but she hadn’t the energy to go through everything immediately. They had chosen a small hut each and Clarke had gathered enough bedding and spare clothing that fit to make herself comfortable for a while. They had found plenty of soap in the bathhouse and any further supplies they should be able to scavenge when they repaired the Rover. If they repaired the Rover.

“Clarke?” Roan’s voice interrupted her thoughts and she realised that he’d answered her question but she had no idea what he’d said.

“Sorry,” she shook her head. “I think I’m a little tired.”

“We have worked hard,” he said as he moved to prepare their dinner. “Now that we know how much food we have there is less necessity to push as hard as we have been.”

“What about the fields?” Clarke asked, watching him shrug his shoulders.

“We have enough in the stores to wait and see how the seasons shift,” he said, glancing over at her. “Did you not say that the weather may be different now? We may not be able to plant as we did before.”

“Yes,” Clarke nodded, pleased that he’d been listening back at the lab when she must have babbled immense amounts of information at him while he was stuck in bed. She hadn’t realised that he’d been paying such close attention to everything.

“So we wait and see how the seasons change,” he returned to the task at hand, hand moving to cut up the vegetables naturally as if he’d been cooking all of his life. “We may have plenty in our stores, but we cannot afford to waste seed. The light is unlike any I’ve seen before and I’d like to get a better sense of temperature changes. Planting a field only to have it freeze or flood may be something we cannot recover from.”

“How do you know all this?” Clarke heard herself asking before she could think about it. “How much were you able to grow in Azgeda?”

Roan turned to face her, eyes hard and distant, suspicion glinting in their depths. What could he be worried about? It wasn’t as if she had anyone to divulge his secrets to. He frowned briefly before looking away, leaving the rest of the meal preparations as he folded his arms across his chest.

“A leader must know about all aspects of life to lead well,” he said holding her eyes, but Clarke didn’t believe that to be the whole of it. She made her doubt obvious, waiting for him to continue to elaborate.

“We grew very little food in Azgeda,” Roan added, making her huff.

“No offence, your highness,” Clarke deliberately prodded. “Your mother didn’t exactly seem the type to know the ins and outs of planting and farming.”

“You think insulting my mother is an offence to me?” Roan asked, cocking his eyebrow at her, expression too bland to be reflective of his mood.

“No, I know you better than that,” Clarke said, making his eyes flash before he looked away. “Who taught you about farming?”

“I learned from several sources,” Roan said, apparently determined to keep the whole truth of it from her. “What do you know of it?”

“Less than we would have needed if there hadn’t been people on the ground,” Clarke shook her head with a small smile. She’d give him a little and hope that he could return some of her trust. “It was all very basic. And not exactly as helpful as they probably thought.”

“Such as?” Roan prodded, curiosity evident in his tone.

“The life cycle of plants and animals,” Clarke said. “The most humane ways to slaughter animals for food. Basic trap making. Basic weather patterns and how to find clean water. The theory of how to build a fire.”

“Theory?” Roan asked. Clarke wondered if he was asking about the word or the whole of it.

“We couldn’t exactly start fires on a space station,” Clarke elaborated watching his expression grow more contemplative. “It would cause problems for the oxygen generators and if something went wrong – the risk was too big. So they taught us the steps but we couldn’t actually make one. It took a long time for us the first day to get one going.”

“How long?” Roan asked, the humour he kept buried, alive in his eyes.

“I’ve already admitted my lack of knowledge, Roan,” she said, standing to move closer, hoping to use his good mood to ask more questions. “I don’t need to be humiliated further by admitting just how badly it went for us.”

His lips twitched at that, eyes glittering as she stopped beside the table. She looked down at the assembled ingredients, noting that none of the potatoes had any green in them. She was also curious to find that she had no idea what some of the ingredients on the table were.

“Is stew something you’ve only learnt about in theory?” he rumbled, making her laugh softly.

“So you have noticed?” Clarke returned, picking up a piece of carrot and happily crunching into it as she locked eyes with him again.

“That your idea of making something edible is likely to make us sick?” he teased, shaking his head. “Yes, Wanheda. Cooking for you is self-preservation.”

Clarke couldn’t stop her hand from giving him a solid cuff against his arm, but it only made him shake his head at her. But she could see that it was progress. Some warmth from Roan was more than she had hoped for. 

“I doubt I could do much with preserved meat,” she said as she filled a pot with water from the large barrel Roan had set beside one of the tables. 

“So you do not wish to learn then?” The question had a lightness to it that spoke of teasing and Clarke gave a dramatic sigh in response. 

“Fine,” she huffed with put-on offense. “Teach me how to cook, please. That way if you end up with food poisoning in the future you’ll know I meant it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is following and reading this story. I can't say that enough. 
> 
> Another thank you that is always insufficient is the one I owe [B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/pseuds/havealittleFaith). You rock.
> 
> To all my American friends out there, Happy Thanksgiving!

Clarke was crying again. Roan never heard anything in the stillness of the evening but she’d come back each night, cheeks flushed and eyes red and swollen. She’d made her radio call as she always did and he’d given her privacy to do so. Roan was starting to doubt they would get a response. They’d tried for nearly two months every day and nothing. Not a response, not a sound. And every night the last few days Clarke has been reduced to tears. He sighed, spinning the spear between his hands as he watched the flames, debating what to do. He’d resisted going to her every night so far but it was getting harder to bear.

No matter what happened in the past, all they had now was each other. For at least the next few years. He sighed before he set the spear aside, following the path until he found her, sitting against the trunk of an oak staring up at the stars. He sat down beside her as she continued to cry silently, waiting for her to speak if she wanted to. If she didn’t, he’d at least made sure she wasn’t alone.

“What if they didn’t make it?” she asked. “What if I didn’t get there fast enough?”

“You saw them leave,” he said unsure of how else to reassure her. He didn’t know any more than she did.

“And we can’t get the people in the bunker out,” she continued, shaking her head and wiping roughly at her cheeks. “They’ll die down there.”

“Your friends will come back and we will figure it out together,” he said, looking up at the sky too, wondering if there was any truth to what he said.

“You don’t know that,” she argued, voice wet and raw from her tears.

“No, I don’t,” he acknowledged. “But hope is all we have.”

“And you still have hope?” she asked.

He looked over at her, her face red and blotchy from her crying. She looked distraught and broken. He was jealous of her ability to fall apart like this. To let herself go. It was not something he thought he could ever allow himself.

“I have always had hope, Clarke,” he said softly. “Despite what my mother tried to teach me I always believed there was something better for us. Something more than war. And then I met you.”

“And I ruined that idea?” she asked. He frowned not liking how hopeless she sounded. He had hoped that after everything, she would have learned that there was always some reason to keep going.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You made me see it was possible if we learn to talk to each other. To have a little faith.”

“But we still went to war,” Clarke pointed out and he smiled wryly. “We still killed each other. Betrayed each other. I betrayed  _ everyone _ . Including you.”

“Yes,” he said. “Though I’m not sure I agree that you betrayed everyone. No one was listening. No one was united. We still thought violence was the best way to survive. The strongest would rise. Maybe it would have been easier if I’d let you ascend. I failed my people.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You were right. The Coalition wouldn’t have followed me.”

“No, but maybe it would have been enough,” he said shaking his head, knowing deep in his heart that letting her ascend would have meant her death and that had been something he couldn’t have borne. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Whoever is down there now is there. We won’t know how they fared until we get them out.”

“And you think we can do that?” she asked. “If Bellamy and the others didn’t make it and it’s just you and I, alone here until we die?”

“If it’s just you and I, Clarke,” he shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, remembering a conversation they’d had a long time ago. “Then we both did everything we could. That will have to be enough. For both of us.”

“Is it for you?” she asked and he looked back up at the stars once more, considering her question.

He didn’t want any more lies between them. Especially if what she said was true. If Clarke was all he had going forward then he wanted to at least get along. They had done that and more in the past. He was safe for the first time in his life as far as they knew. There was only Clarke and himself and a green valley rich with life despite everything. It was the only time he’d ever had to just exist. Just think. And if this was all he’d have for the rest of his days, it was as close to heaven as he’d ever know.

“I think so,” he said quietly. 

Clarke didn’t respond, but settled against the tree behind her, her breathing less ragged and hitched from tears and grief. Her tears had stopped and she was staring up at the same endless night sky that he was. Hopefully taking his words to heart. It was enough for now. 

*~*~*

“We’re planning on going to get the Rover soon. I’m not happy about leaving it out there too long. It’s as protected as it could be, but the storms- I’ve never seen anything like them before. Roan says they’re worse than most that he’s lived through and Azgeda had some bad weather. 

It’s cool now at night. It should still be early fall but it doesn’t feel like it. We may need to try and go back to Polis soon to get winter furs. They have some supplies here, but nothing if it gets really cold. And we need to see what we can make use of. If there is anything else -  _ anywhere _ else where there is any life. 

I hope you guys aren’t getting too frustrated up there. How many times have you wanted to throttle Murphy by now? Raven must be ready to kill him. And I assume Monty has the farm under control? There’s algae here in the river and I pointed out to Roan the other day that that’s what you’ll be surviving on for the next few years. Don’t think I’d ever see him look as relieved as I did then. He mumbled something about Flokru before he disappeared off to check on the fish numbers. 

Things are going better between us. I - 

I should apologize. I know I should. But we haven’t talked about it and I’m worried about ruining what progress we’ve made.” 

*~*~*

Clarke found him sitting at the edge of the river, watching the water rush by. Or maybe watching the woods, it was always hard to tell. Since he came to find her after her nightly radio call a week earlier she had been turning his words over and over in her mind and she wanted to finally have the conversation they needed to have since he woke up. It was just one Clarke didn’t know how to navigate. Not now that they both relied on each other. Not when each other was all they had.

“Any luck?” she asked as she sat down beside him.

“Haven’t seen any large game,” he said, confirming that he was watching the woods. “Doubtful there is any. But there are a few species of bird.”

“You never know,” she said, throwing a rock into the rushing stream. “I didn’t think we’d find someplace as full of life as this.”

“It’s likely the only place left,” Roan said, glancing over at her. “Everything living will eventually come here.”

She nodded, knowing he was right. There was a note of finality in his words. Like he expected them to find others. Or for the bunker to eventually be opened. Like he had hope.

“I want-“ she started but couldn’t quite figure out what to say. He looked over at her and she wondered if he knew this was coming. She suspected as much. He’d always been able to read her. His eyes remained closed to her but he kept them on her face as she scrambled for what she needed to say. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said, the weight of the words heavier than any she’d felt before. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“Maybe you were,” he sighed, looking down at his hands. “Don’t think we’ll ever know.”

“Maybe not,” she admitted, turning to face him and knowing that there were more apologies to make but it was taking a lot more courage than she had.

“I always respected you, Clarke,” he said before she had a chance to continue, eyes a little resigned. “I still do. If you have seen your choices in a different light, I’m not going to debate you.”

“But I broke my promise to you,” she said, the weight of all her failures heavy on her shoulders, his words making it a harder burden to bear.

“Yes,” he agreed solemnly, not giving her any leeway.

“I left you to die,” she whispered, tears pressing against her lids but it wasn’t the time to let them fall. “After everything we- I left you.”

“I didn’t give you much choice,” he said after a long moment, clearing his throat. “I understand why you made the choice you did, Clarke. I told you once before that I saw potential in you. That you can make the choices many can’t. It’s never without consequence.”

“Even when that consequence is a price you have to pay?” she asked, holding his eyes.

“Even then,” he agreed without hesitation. It made her swallow hard around the lump in her throat.

“I don’t think anyone else would see it that way,” she whispered, tears blurring her vision.

“No, they probably won’t,” he agreed. “But they aren’t leaders. You are.”

“I don’t want to be,” she admitted. “I never wanted to be.”

“Neither did I,” he said. “Yet here we are.”

“Together,” she said, daring to glance over at him, seeing his lips twitch.

“Together,” he agreed, looking over at her, something settling between them.

They fell into silence as they both watched the water flow in the stream, the sun barely breaking through the clouds but showing promise. Clarke closed her eyes focusing on the breeze against her face, thankful for the first time that she’d made it through Praimfaya. With Roan.

“If you need to hear it,” he said after they had sat together for a long time in silence. “I forgive you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, unable to stop the tears this time from leaking down her cheeks. He didn’t make a move to comfort her, but his forgiveness had given her everything she needed and more.

*~*~*

Roan found Clarke sitting on the edge of the small promontory that overlooked a part of the valley. Rain was still misting in the air, but the sun had broken through making the small clusters of water glitter and catch the light. He looked out over the valley, a rather magnificent rainbow on display as the rain cleared. He looked back down to Clarke, curious as to what she was doing. She had her arms wrapped around her legs, head perched on top of her knees and it didn’t appear that she’d heard his approach. She’d been out all morning, a small basket of herbs sitting beside her, but as the afternoon had worn on, he’d gotten concerned about her. Especially after a heavy rain made him seek shelter indoors rather than working on the fishing nets.

“Clarke?” he said as he approached but she barely moved. He stepped closer, glancing out at the valley, curious at what had her attention.

“Are you alright?” he asked, glancing at her face and pausing at her expression. She looked awed.

“I’d seen pictures on the Ark,” she said quietly, eyes still fixed on the sky. “But I never realised they would be that big.”

“What?” he asked, glancing out at the valley, eyes scanning the tree line until they went back to the rainbow in the sky. He hesitated a moment before looking back at Clarke. Her eyes sparkled and he realised that it was the streak of colour in the sky that had given her such pause.

“The rainbow,” she murmured softly as he sat down beside her. “It’s incredible.”

He hummed, unsure of what to say. It was a rainbow, something relatively common but he knew many people enjoyed them, children especially. He’d never truly had any opportunity regardless of age to appreciate them. He moved his eyes back to the rainbow and tried to see it for what it was. To see it with fresh eyes as Clarke apparently did. He’d never thought much about how the world would be like for her.

“Is it the first one you’ve seen?” he asked once the potential enormity of the moment occurred to him. He’d noticed in the past that she’d pause to watch weather patterns or animals longer than he’d seen anyone of her age do before. He’d found her carefully inspecting the wildflowers next to the field a few days ago and he’d brushed it off as curiosity due to the unexpected life they’d found. But maybe it was more simple than that. She was just marvelling over life in general.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I missed the one the kids saw the first week. I just never expected them to be so-“ she trailed off.

“Colourful?” he asked, curious at what she was thinking. He heard her huff and maybe laugh beside him.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Colourful. Big. Iridescent. Any of it.”

“What else haven’t you seen?” he asked, curious what life would have been like without all of these things. He glanced over at her and she finally tore her eyes away from the sky to meet his for a moment.

“Snow,” she said with a smile, apparently assuming he’d had his fair share of it in his life. “We saw some on the way to the island, but not – not the way I should have seen it. It was probably mainly ash.”

“It’s cold,” he felt the need to point out. “And dirty.”

“It can’t be dirty,” she argued. “It’s water.”

“That sits on the ground and melts into sludge,” he said, quirking his eyebrow at her before looking over the valley, trying to see it with less corrupted eyes.

“You are determined to be a pessimist aren’t you?” she asked, making him smile out at the valley before he could suppress the urge. “I just – these are the things I’ve only seen videos and pictures of. And it’s not like we had the time to appreciate them before Praimfaya. But now. Now all I have is time.”

“Then enjoy them,” he said quietly, seeing the bright blue of the wildflowers moving in the breeze in the distance, appreciating the rich purple intermingled between them for the first time. Maybe appreciating the world around them was something even he could do now.

Roan found himself lost in his thoughts as they watched the rainbow slowly fade away as the sunlight slowly overtook the last remnants of the storm. The colourful arc faded from the sky but after the rain, the colours in the forest below stood out even stronger. The flowers in the field were more vibrant. The green of the pine was richer. Even the smell after the rain was heavier, headier, more biting. Things he’d known, but seldom taken the time to appreciate.

“I’d always wanted to go to a beach,” Clarke said, her voice breaking the silence. “Maybe it’s silly that I still do. When we went to Luna we saw the ocean, but I didn’t have time to appreciate it then. Especially considering how she took us out to Flokru.”

“Not sure what’s left out there,” Roan said, quietly amused knowing what he knew of how secretive Luna had been. “But we can go to where it was.”

“And if there’s nothing?” she asked a little sadly. “Maybe I should just not ruin my imagination.”

“What’s ruined it so far?” he asked, looking over at her. She frowned before moving her eyes to his.

“Not much,” she said after a moment. “Things have been different. Definitely more violent. But nothing has been ruined. Not natural things in any case.”

“We’ll need to see what’s left at some point,” he pointed out with a shrug. “Once we get the Rover back.”

“Then we need to go get new solar panels,” she said. “We’ll need supplies.”

“We have enough,” he said, knowing it would be at least a couple of days on foot to the solar fields. Then three days back to where the Rover was. If they could repair it they would be back here the same day, but if they couldn’t they would be stretching how much they could physically carry.

“We need a way to carry enough water,” she pointed out and he looked more closely at her. She was scared.

“You wanna avoid going?” he asked, eyes sharp on her but his tone causal..

“Maybe,” she sighed, rubbing at her face. “This is just so much. If we leave. What if we don’t get back?”

“What if it’s all been a shared delusion?” he asked, making her lips turn up. “We’ll be fine, Clarke. We’ve got each other. Together we can carry enough supplies.”

“Yeah,” she said, giving him a searching look. “We’ve got each other.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to [Faith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/profile) for all of her support and the second set of eyes that makes things more readable. 
> 
> Thank you to all of you who are reading this little story of mine too, and I will try and respond to comments soon, I just don't have the amount of time I need at the moment, but I truly appreciate each one!

“You’ll be able to carry all that?” Roan asked as he helped Clarke strap the large pack to her shoulders. He moved around to stand before her, tightening the straps and inspecting them before looking up. 

“I think so,” Clarke agreed, not daring to complain knowing that Roan was carrying at least twice as much as she was. “It’s not comfortable, but it’s only a few days, right?”

Roan shook his head, but his lips were curved enough to show his amusement. 

“Don’t bring bad fortune down on our heads,” he added as they started out of the village. Clarke couldn’t believe that the king had such superstitions and found herself at a loss for words and followed him in silence. 

They had packed enough food and water to last them a week. Clarke hoped it would be enough, but they truly couldn’t say. They wouldn’t make it to the large solar farms near where the Dead Zone had been on foot, but there had been a smaller one about two days walk from the valley. It was better to risk having to make a return trip than commit to a ten day trek to the deepest part of the desert and back. If they had to, they would, but both had agreed that they had the time to allow for checking the smaller solar fields first, which would make for a five day round trip unless something unforeseen happened. 

“So what are you betting on?” Clarke asked, glancing to the side. “Giant snakes? Flying scorpions? Winds too strong for us to walk through? Poison gas?”

“Must I ask you not to tempt the Spirits again, Wanheda?” Roan grumbled, more concerned than her joke had warranted. “Based on what we saw before we found the Valley, I think the lack of anything will be the worst. No shelter from the wind or cold.”

“Storms, then,” Clarke said, determined to keep a positive attitude. “I’m putting my money on flying scorpions. I’m not happy about it, but if I’ve learned anything from earth it’s that there’s always something out there that will want to kill you.”

“And that is going to come in the form of killer insects?” Roan asked, his voice a little less strained. Maybe he understood what she was trying to do. 

“Insects would be the most likely to survive,” she shrugged, taking in the view of the green canopy as they wandered through the last of the fertile land. “Especially ones already equipped for extreme climates.”

“Who taught you all of this?” Roan asked to her surprise. He’d not pushed the boundaries of their relationship yet, keeping his own council for the most part and conversations had been rare and very impersonal by large. Maybe being faced with hours of trudging through inhospitable land in silence was too much even for such a stoic man?

“Flora and fauna was something we learned a lot about on the Ark,” she answered. “Animal husbandry and being able to identify anything poisonous was very important for survival. I think my people had expected to come down with access to some technology so we didn’t know absolutely everything but we were taught enough.”

“Enough to allow you to identify spoiled meat?” he huffed as they reached the border of the Valley and the vast wasteland spanned the horizon before them. Clarke laughed at the question, happy to give a little of her pride if it meant allowing conversation to flow. 

“Like I’ve already admitted to you, haihefa,” Clarke grumbled, wishing his title didn’t make him flinch. “There were quite large holes in our education. And granted, most of us kids didn’t get to finish school. I think Jasper had been in the Skybox since he was fourteen. Not to mention the little ones.”

“Little ones?” Roan’s expression was severe when she looked over at him. 

“Charlotte was twelve,” Clarke said, frowning as she remembered the little girl that had been so important to her when they first came to earth. The one who had caused her more grief than she’d understood at the time. “There were a couple of kids who were around her age, then plenty of fourteen and fifteen year olds.”

“What did she do to warrant a death sentence?” Roan sounded both appalled and intrigued by the conversation. 

“She assaulted a guard when her parents were arrested,” Clarke recalled, amazed at the details she kept even after so much had happened. It felt like years had passed since Wells had been murdered by the girl. “Most of the minors in Skybox would have an opportunity to save themselves from being floated when they turned eighteen. But coming down to earth was convenient.”

“It was assumed a likely death sentence from what you’ve informed me,” he pointed out, again making her realise how closely he must have been listening to her and how much he remembered. 

“Many thought we’d die, yes,” the blonde agreed. “Many of us did. Just not because the planet wasn’t habitable.”

“You were fortunate to land in Trikru,” Roan said after a moment of considered silence. “Many others would have killed you.”

“Azgeda?” Clarke asked, already knowing what happened to their people in his lands. Roan gave her a hard look she didn’t quite know how to interpret before he looked back at the land before them. The wind had picked up once more, the cold a little more biting than it had been in the protection of the Valley. 

“You know what my people did,” Roan said after Clarke had given up waiting for an answer. “Though we would not have punished a child for lashing out in grief.”

“There wasn’t much choice,” Clarke said, knowing that some of her people’s rules were more extreme than those on the ground. “Though I can’t pretend not to agree with you. If I didn’t I would have agreed with why I was in solitary confinement.”

“What did you do?” Roan asked, looking at her curiously. 

Clarke was taken aback, having assumed she’d told him at some point during their time together but after searching her memories she came up empty. She’d never mentioned her father or how Abby was involved in all of it. Not about Wells or Jaha. She frowned and hesitated for a moment trying to figure out where to start. 

“Earned your title before you were sent down?” Roan prodded as she was sorting through her thoughts. 

“My dad was an engineer,” she said with a sad smile, adjusting the straps that were starting to dig into her shoulders. “He studied and worked on engines and machines, specifically the machines that were responsible for keeping the ship habitable. So we could live there. He discovered a problem with making oxygen for us to breathe on the Ark. Found out that we only had a year, maybe two, left before we’d all essentially suffocate up there. I overheard him and Mom discussing it. He was floated because he wanted to tell everyone on the Ark but the Council disagreed.”

“I thought Wells,” she continued, voice growing soft with regret. She doubted Roan knew of Wells which felt wrong even after so much had happened since he died. “He was my best friend growing up. Like a brother. I thought Wells told Jaha, his father, about it. And that Wells was the reason my dad died. Turned out it was my mother all along.”

Roan was silent for a while, allowing Clarke to let memories of Wells flash through her mind. Of times before she’d stopped talking to him. Times before her isolation corrupted so many of her feelings for him. She didn’t even consider what it would make Roan think of Abby or Thelonius or if he’d assumed something more of their characters than Clarke knew. There was so much more to the story that he  _ should _ ask about. She was curious to know if there was something he  _ would _ ask her for. 

“But why were you sentenced?” Roan asked, surprising her.

“They couldn’t kill me,” she answered, her voice flat as she kept her own emotions at bay. “I wanted to help Dad get the word out. I wouldn’t have kept quiet. But floating a minor? That was too much for them to consider, I guess. So they locked me in solitary for a year before I came to earth.”

“A year?” Roan asked and his tone made Clarke’s cheeks flame. 

She often tried to forget how long she was in that cell, apart from everyone and everything. It had been a madhouse for her alone, all she had for company had been the pictures on the walls and her imagination. At least they’d brought her books after a couple of months. Textbooks, sketch pads, novels. Something to allow her some time from her own thoughts, her own company. Something to keep her from going completely insane. That was what the others never understood. Not Bellamy, not the delinquents, not her mother, not Lexa. None of them had been as isolated and alone for as long as she had been. Alone and purposefully apart. Monty and Jasper had each other, cell-mates for a year, even Octavia had had people to speak to. Murphy and the others had meals and class to go to, but Clarke? She’d had no one until the two weeks before the drop and then she’d been too terrified to speak to anyone, too notorious to ever be more than a Griffin. The Alpha brat who’d fallen so far certainly wasn’t worthy of any sympathy. 

“Yes,” she whispered, looking out at the desert before them, dead trees like broken ribs against the muted brown sky. It was desolate and empty of life but more alive than the year she’d faced alone in that white room. 

Clarke felt Roan’s eyes on her and it made her skin prickle uncomfortably.

“Don’t,” she said, pushing ahead of him. “I doubt I’m the only one with a less than stellar backstory. I’m not looking for sympathy.”

“I’m not giving you any,” he said immediately, but there was something different in his expression Clarke wasn’t sure she liked. Something bordering on understanding. 

“How long before we need to take a break?” Clarke asked, pushing her feet forward, away from the security of the valley, away from the questions about a past she’d rather not explore right now. Roan’s eyes stayed on her back but he honoured her silent plea to move on, move forward through the wasteland and toward more hopeful tasks. 

*~*~*

“We’ve been walking for almost two days now. It’s gone slower than we thought. The terrain isn’t hard, but the air is so dry and polluted it makes it hard to breathe. We take more breaks than we thought we would just so we don’t run out of water. I’m still hopeful it will rain. We need something to help us get through. There’s no other standing water that we’ve seen outside of the Valley.

There’s nothing here Bellamy. It’s eerie. We’ve reached the edge of the desert sands and will start crossing tomorrow. Hopefully we’ll only have to spend one night out on the sand, the wind is horrible. I can’t imagine what the sandstorms here would be like. I’ll call through at the same time tomorrow. Let you know what sand, sand, and more sand looks like.”

*~*~*

It started with a searing pain over his exposed cheekbone. The wind had been howling and clouds darkening the already muted sky for a while, but he’d spotted a small rock outcropping and knew the best bet was to utilise something else for shelter. He glanced over at Clarke who was looking up toward their destination. Just then a second stinging pain cut over the bridge of his nose. 

“You’re bleeding,” Clarke said, looking up at him, her own cheek leaking black blood.

“As are you,” he said, looking up at the sky trying to make sense of what was happening. The wind was roaring in the distance, whipping around their clothing and pulling at their bodies. 

“The sand,” Clarke yelled, pulling up her cowl to cover more of her face. “It may have gotten hot enough to melt it. It’s glass!”

Roan frowned, estimating how long it would take to get to the rocks. They were both tired, both needed rest but they were so close to the solar fields they had decided to push through as much of the desert as they could manage today. Leave only a few hours of walking tomorrow before they knew if they could make it work for the Rover. 

“Run!” he decided and started jogging toward the rock out cropping. The straps of his pack dug into his shoulders but he forced himself to forget about the pain. They had a small tent and as long as they could get that up it would offer some protection against the biting bits of glass that were becoming more than a frequent irritation against his skin. 

Clarke was slower than he was, catching up as he was pulling the tent out but she was quick to drop her own burden and help him. Over the past couple of nights they had worked together to set up camp and shared the small tent to sleep in. It was strange being so close to her again, but he couldn’t deny the comfort it also brought him to know she was near, especially now, out in the unknown. 

By the time they had pulled their packs inside the tent the wind was tearing at their bodies, a roaring bellow in the air around them and Roan was relieved they had made it to the somewhat shelter of the outcropping of rocks. It was enough to dampen the wind from two sides, and the benefit of desert sands was that the ground was always soft. 

“Hungry?” he asked, but his voice barely carried over the noise of the wind. Clarke understood him anyway, pulling out a packet of dried fruit and meat they could share. There was no hope of starting a fire or cooking, but Roan didn’t mind. He’d rather get what rest he could in this and move as early as possible in the morning light. The sooner they were out of this, the better. 

The storm halted any attempts at conversation between them for the night which meant he spent more time watching Clarke’s face as she grabbed a bit of spare cloth and wet it, running it over her face and cleaning up the small cuts the sand had left behind. He had been considering what she’d told him during their journey, about why she was imprisoned, at times when conversation had fallen away between them and the silence became heavy and burdensome. To have been isolated when she was so young, so unprepared, must have been a horror he could barely understand. He’d known isolation and times where conversations with others were a distant memory, wandering the wilds of Trikru lands, hoping to avoid anyone lest he’d have to fight for survival. When he got tired of killing to defend whatever honour he had left but didn’t feel entitled to. Killing for food, finding what shelter he could. But he’d never been imprisoned in a room until time had no meaning. He found himself wondering if this is where she had gained her strength. Where she had learned to listen to others and put them above herself. She’d given so much for her people, for them to survive. If he hadn’t been here, she would have been alone once more, the only person left on a desolate planet. How would she have managed without losing hope? Was that why she had reached her limit that day in the desert? She knew he’d never let her harm herself and he’d give his life for hers again if needed. Perhaps going on alone was more than she could bear. To have known such solitude - 

The hand on his arm startled him, his eyes focusing on Clarke’s as he realised he’d lost himself in thoughts once again. There was more to Clarke than he had expected even though he’d seen the hints of something deeper from the first moment he saw her fury at being forced to return to Polis. 

“Do you want me to clean your cuts?” Clarke asked, pointing to his cheekbone, her voice barely audible. He nodded, at a loss to do anything else. 

Her touch was sure as always, her hands made for healing. He wondered if that was something she had been intending to learn when she was younger, but Skaikru seemed to hold the innocence of childhood in higher regard so maybe she had yet to choose. She can’t have been much older than nineteen or twenty now, if she was nearly eighteen when they were sent from space. And a year in prison meant she would have been younger yet. He was curious about Skaikru customs. They were so different from what he’d grown up with. 

“What?” Roan saw Clarke’s lips move rather than heard her and followed her eyes down to the sand below their feet. It was moving. Or rather something was moving in it. 

He tracked the movement in the ground, alarmed as it closed in on Clarke. He grabbed her arm, pulling her back and away from the sand. 

“What the hell is that?” He heard her shout over the noise. 

He shook his head in response, catching another churning movement approaching them. It couldn’t be a good thing. Clarke had joked about what creatures may have survived the death wave and he suspected they were about to find out at the worst possible time. Their tent didn’t offer them enough protection and certainly not enough room to move far enough away from the potential threat, but they had to do something. He grabbed the knife at his hip just as Clarke cried out beside him. 

“My leg,” she tugged desperately at the material covering her leg, fingers slipping under to inspect the site. 

“Watch the ground!” He hoped she could hear him over the howling wind as he raised the electric lantern Clarke had found in Arkadia to inspect her wound. What he saw when he brought the light closer made him rear back. Something was burrowing into her skin. 

“What is it?” Clarke bent close to his ear but he had no answers. Instead he raised her leg to allow her a better look. 

Clarke’s eyes widened but after a second of hesitation her hand shot out, pressing down on the end of whatever animal was penetrating her skin. 

“Hold on to this!” she yelled, grabbing the knife from his fingers and without flinching brought the blade down to her skin. Roan pulled at the tail he held, doing his best to extract what was trying to burrow in. Whatever it was had a hold and wasn’t willing to let go but he pulled as hard as his slippery grip managed and felt something give. 

“What is that?” Clarke asked as he held the wriggling insect up for closer inspection. “Is that a worm?”

“Looks like,” he agreed, looking around the sand below them. “We have to get off the sand.”

“How?” she asked, tearing off a piece of her shirt to bind around her bleeding leg. “Where?”

“Up,” he pointed at where he’d fastened their tent to the rock wall. 

“But the storm!” she called as the wind continued to surge. 

He shrugged, grabbing his cowl and wrapping his face. The sand below their feet was moving more, not less. If these worms were more numerous then they’d be in a lot of trouble. He’d rather face the storm than a potentially greater threat. 

By the time they had managed to cover themselves enough to endure the wind, it had started to die down a little and Roan hoped it would mean that the worst was over. He could hear himself think once more even as he huddled with Clarke as high up on the promontory that the elements allowed. He knew that whatever was in the sand meant that they would be walking through the night. 

*~*~*

“The storms, Bellamy. Holy shit, we look like we’ve been attacked. And the worms? I guess that’s what we’ve decided they are. I don’t know what they do, but they burrow into a human body too quickly for comfort. We stayed in the solar field an extra afternoon just to give us a whole day to make it through the desert. We haven’t seen these things anywhere else. 

My watch is almost over. We’re only a few hours away from where we left the Rover and then it’ll only take an hour back to the Valley. Back home. I can’t wait.” 

*~*~*

Clarke let out a long breath when she turned off the ignition and the Rover’s engine shut down, allowing the quiet stillness of the Valley to wash over her. They were back. 

“Let’s hope we don’t need to do that ever again,” Clarke said, looking over at Roan with a tired smile. “I don’t want to deal with glass storms or worms that think I’m snack food for, well - ever.”

“We have this now,” he responded, one hand on the dashboard. “We should be safer in this.”

“Unless another storm hits,” Clarke pointed out as she moved out of the driver's seat. She couldn’t wait to have a bath and sleep for a week. “We’re going to have to learn how to remove the panels quick enough.”

“And learn how to track the storms,” he said, hefting a bag onto one shoulder. “At least those creatures seem to only be in the sands.”

“True,” Clarke agreed. 

They hadn’t seen any indication of the worms anywhere else to her relief. She needed to get a proper look at her leg now that she had time but she knew enough about parasites to suspect that it was some sort of mutation. Maybe they had been there for years but something had shifted in their environment allowing them to come up to the surface. She stifled a yawn as they walked back to the huts. It was still early but they had barely slept the last few days. Clarke doubted even Roan would object to going to bed before the sun set now that they could finally sleep safely again. 

“Strange,” Clarke overheard Roan grumble as she put back the small pots they’d taken with them. 

“What’s strange?” she asked, glancing over to where he was inspecting his fishing net and the table near it. He looked over at her, eyes clouded with concern. 

“I remember having more fishing line,” he said with a frown, sorting through the supplies on the table. 

“Are you sure?” she asked, moving to stand beside him. He shot her a look but Clarke shrugged. “Maybe the birds? I don’t know.”

“Maybe,” he agreed with a frown but didn’t look convinced. “Maybe I am not remembering correctly. I need to sleep.”

“I can’t believe you’re admitting weakness, azhefa,” Clarke couldn’t help but tease, too happy to be back in the Village. The comment earned her another sharp look which she returned with a sunny smile. 

“You look like you need some too,” he commented smartly, a glitter of humour in his eyes that warmed her. “And a bath.”

“That was my first order of business,” she grinned, dumping the rest of her gear on the ground and setting off to check on the water she’d set to heating for that exact purpose. 

Clarke awoke refreshed and well-rested the following morning, the warm light filtering into her hut telling her that she’d slept later than normal. She felt a little sleep drunk but it was glorious after so many days of stress and deprivation. She stretched out the kinks in her spine as she emerged into the centre of the village, glancing over at the hut Roan had picked as his own. 

It felt strange sleeping alone in her hut after sharing close quarters with him once more. Sleeping in the Rover after they left the lab had been awkward but necessary. Clarke had woken several times during those two nights, hands reaching for his body but she’d snatched them back before he’d noticed her intention. They had slept apart every night in the village save the first one, Roan suggesting finding their own space the first morning together. 

Clarke had felt a sting of rejection at his words, but understood, knowing that they both would want their own space if they were to spend so much time together. They had explored the huts separately, Clarke forcing down the distaste at entering homes uninvited and dreading finding more bodies. It had taken a couple of hours in the daylight to clear the last of the huts, with only a couple more villagers found in the process. 

Roan had chosen a hut near the centre of the village and Clarke followed suit, picking up the nicknacks left behind by its former inhabitants. Two hours passed before she had respectfully packed away the personal belongings of the former occupants and arranged it a little more to her own liking. Their scavenging had given them access to more than the blonde felt comfortable taking from the dead, but she had gratefully accepted a book of empty pages and charcoal for her sketching which she set on the small table in one corner of her room.

“Slept well?” Roan’s voice startled her when he emerged from his hut, looking more relaxed than she remembered seeing him before. 

“Very,” she confirmed, stirring the thick porridge she favoured for her morning meal. “You?”

He hummed an affirmative as he placed two bowls on the table, a well-coordinated action that should feel less comfortable than it did. There were a lot of moments of domestic simplicity that made her feel like they had reached an understanding now, but something still felt heavy and unspoken. Like they were still searching for that balance they had before. Perhaps she was just missing the extra something that had grown between them before the world went to shit and she killed any chance of a more fulfilling relationship. 

“We should go through the clothing stores today,” Roan said as she served up the simple meal before sitting down at the table across from him. “I’ve put the nets out so we should have fresh fish for dinner, but I’d like to know how long we can wait before we go to Polis.”

“Did it get cold here?” Clarke asked, hoping to be spared another exploration to the ruined rubble for the near future. 

“Before?” Roan asked but it didn’t seem to require an answer as he considered the question. “It would freeze, yes. And snow.” The last comment came with a glance up at her, his eyes lightening in amusement. She smiled as she looked down at the porridge in her bowl and took a bite as she considered her answer. 

“You just want me to hate snow as much as you do,” she quirked her eyebrow in challenge as he rolled his eyes in return. “But if it snowed it must mean that they’ll have winter clothes.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged as he leaned back in his chair. “But they relied on trade and furs are expensive. It would have depended on their last season’s harvest. And considering the instability in the Coalition with the arrival of Skaikru, they may have traded furs for weapons so they would be prepared.”

“For what?” she asked, surprised. “Who would attack them?”

“Who wouldn’t?” Roan challenged. “The balance of power was changing, Clarke. You saw it too. Your Chancellor Kane did. Most villages were preparing for the inevitable.”

“You think war was inevitable?” She frowned, having lost her appetite. “Because of us?”

“Because the system wasn’t working,” Roan sighed. “It was broken and without a proper Commander to lead them, the Coalition was fractured. I wanted -” he paused looking uncomfortable. He cleared his throat before shooting her a challenging look.

“What did you want?” Clarke asked seriously. “Roan?”

“I wanted to unify the Coalition,” he admitted. “Azgeda - there was too much death and war. No one was willing to take time and see that our differences were our strength.”

“That was why you didn’t want me to ascend,” Clarke realised suddenly, understanding more of what had motivated the anger he’d allowed to spill out unchecked when he stopped her in Polis. “You wanted to lead them.”

“I didn’t  _ want _ to lead them,” he said quietly. “But the Coalition deserved a better ruler. When Skaikru arrived I thought that perhaps they were ready to listen.”

“I’m sorry they weren’t,” she said honestly, holding his gaze even as his eyes hardened. The silence hung heavily between them but Clarke didn’t know what else she could say. If there was anything at all. She looked away, out into the beautiful green canopy that surrounded them, searching for words that wouldn’t come. What could she say that he hadn’t considered already?

“It won’t do any good to think on any longer,” Roan’s tone was as resigned as his expression, his eyes on some distant point in the forest behind her. “We are here and the past is over.”

“But the problem is still the same,” Clarke argued, gaining his attention. “If we manage to open the bunker, the people still need a leader.”

“They will have someone down there,” Roan said dismissively. “There must be leadership at times like these. Or we will find only rotting bones when we open the door.”

Clarke swallowed at his words, her own darkest fears spoken so casually. There were many nights she woke from nightmares of just that, the sickly sweet smell of death, forever sealed behind a metal door she’d opened. Like Pandora she’d stand witness to the horror she’d unleashed on the world, everyone else paying the price for her choices. 

  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/profile), as always, she made this whole mess more readable than it was before. 
> 
> I'm also likely to post the next chapter shortly, possibly even tomorrow. 7 and 8 are pretty closely related and a little shorter than my usual chapter length.

Clarke looked up sharply at a sound near the riverbank. They hadn’t seen any large game yet, but that didn’t mean that there weren't some large animals around. What she saw however wasn’t a large animal. Not by your usual estimates.

It was a child. Dirty, thin and scared by the looks. But a child.

“A nightblood,” Clarke whispered. It was the only way anyone would have managed to survive the radiation.

“Hello,” she said, but as she spoke the child ran off into the woods. “Shit.”

Clarke debated following her for a moment. She probably would have if she’d been alone, but Roan needed to know. He was the better tracker between the two of them. She wasn’t too proud to admit it. Clarke abandoned her fishing attempt for the day, hurrying back to the village calling his name as she went.

“Roan!” she called seeing him run up to her, eyes sharp. “I saw a child.”

“A child?” he asked, frowning. “That’s not possible.”

“A nightblood child could have survived,” she pointed out as he looked behind her, eyes moving around quickly. “Roan. We have to find them.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, scanning her face.

“You think I was hallucinating?” she asked, feeling offended. His frown cleared a little but he didn’t look as convinced as he could have been. “I know what I saw, Roan.”

“Even if there was a nightblood child here,” he said shaking his head. “They would have been sent to Polis with the others.”

“Like Ontari was,” Clarke pointed out, pain flickering in his eyes. “It’s possible. You know it is.”

“But very unlikely,” he said firmly. “And to have survived the radiation wave?”

“Still possible,” Clarke said. “Especially here. If they were hidden. Like a nightblood hiding from Polis might be.”

“Clarke,” he said, voice just shy of patronising, making her skin prickle with irritation. “It’s very unlikely.”

“I know what I saw,” she insisted, watching him cross his arms over his chest and she wanted to go back out and find the kid just to prove him wrong immediately. “I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not saying you are, Clarke,” he sighed, shoulders dropping a little. “If you’re right, we’ll have to keep watch.”

“Against a child?” she asked, a little horrified especially since he or she had run off before Clarke even got a word out.

“Especially against a child,” he said. There was a weight of sadness in his tone that made her step back, feeling decidedly off kilter. There was so much about his world that she hadn’t even begun to scratch the surface of, even after months together. That he’d be wary of a wild child was something telling.

“Okay,” she said softly, glancing around. “We keep watch.”

“If you’re right,” he said, uncrossing his arms. “We need to be on our guard.”

“He or she is probably scared, alone,” Clarke said. “They were maybe five, six? Nearly impossible to tell. Dirty, very thin. It would be terrifying to be here alone for so long.”

“Maybe,” he said solemnly. “Or maybe they were alone for a reason.”

*~*~*

“You’ll never believe this, Bellamy! There’s a child here. A child! They must have survived in the Valley this whole time. Must have been from Louwoda Kliron because they know the area. And I admit I’m happy to know that someone was moving things around in our stores and stealing fishing wire. I was starting to think we were going crazy but it was too early for isolation to set in yet. 

But what are we going to do? How are we going to speak to them? Roan is more wary than I am. They can’t be more than seven at the most. What harm could they do at that age? Especially against Roan? I’ll keep you up to date and just hope we figure this out too. But it makes me wonder if more survived the wave but if they didn’t have access to food and water like we did, like the child did, they would have died out there. Alone.” 

*~*~*

Roan’s head whipped around when he heard Clarke’s ear piercing scream and he took off running in the direction. He had his knife out and ready for whatever had caused it to happen.

“Fuck!” She swore when he found her on the ground, prying a trap off her leg, blood pouring down her leg. “Little bastard got me.”

“You saw it again?” Roan asked, looking around as he knelt down beside her. “Where?”

“I followed them in here,” she said, making him glare at her. She knew the dangers and should have been more careful. The bone was most certainly broken from the impact of the trap.

“I know, I know,” she muttered, apparently catching his sneer. “I just didn’t want to miss my chance.”

“To get maimed?” he asked as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the river’s edge. He’d rinse out the injury before binding it back in the village.

“Roan!” she whispered insistently, grabbing his shoulder and pointing to the other riverbank. “Look!”

Roan looked in the direction spotting a young child, just as Clarke had said, watching them, a spear held high, panic in their eyes. His hands tightened on Clarke, shifting to shield her from any threat but keeping his eyes on the child. Clarke’s hand tightened on his shoulder as they faced off against the unknown survivor, her exposed cut dripping blood down his arm. It was then he saw the child’s eyes drop to Clarke’s leg, widening slightly when they saw the injury.

“Os nou na laksen yu op,” Roan said calmly. “Yumi ste klir.” (We will not hurt you// We are safe from each other)

The child’s eyes widened further before it turned and ran off into the woods. Roan wanted to follow, but he had Clarke to worry about first. But she had been right. They weren’t alone.

  
|   
---  
  
Roan carried her back to the village, seeing the pain of the injury on her face. He was as careful as possible when he set her down on the ground near the fire, setting a pot of water to boil. Clarke was better at healing than he was so he waited for her direction.

“I have some bandages in my hut,” she said, inspecting the injury. “And a needle and thread.”

“I’ll be back,” Roan said, hoping it was all in an obvious place. He spotted her makeshift medical area immediately to his relief, grabbing the strips of fabric he assumed she’d meant. 

“If it’s fractured it isn’t bad,” Clarke said when he came up to her. “Hurts like hell.”

“You shouldn’t walk on it,” Roan said, putting the fabric in the boiling water. 

“What do we do about the child?” Clarke asked.

“Set a trap?” Roan said wryly as he checked her leg once again. He fished out one of the hot cloths and set about cleaning the wound for her.

“That’s not funny,” Clarke said, eyes telling a different story.

“Then why are you smiling?” he asked as he pressed down harder, making her hiss. “Would you like me to wrap your leg?

“I want to put a couple of sutures into the longer cut,” she said making him frown. “Then I’d like the help, yes.”

Roan continued dabbing her wound until it was clean enough for his liking before he handed her the needle and thread from the pot. He watched her stitch the wound shut, flinching each time the needle bit through her skin. After she was finished he wrapped her leg tight and helped her sit more comfortably. 

“I’ll go get the fish,” he said, handing her the pistol she kept in her hut. “If you get in trouble, fire this and I will come back.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, looking tired. “Go set your trap.”

“For the child or for you?” he asked, making her laugh quietly before he picked up the spear, figuring it would be more efficient than the line Clarke insisted on using. 

He debated tracking the young survivor while the tracks were still fresh but there was something about the way she looked at Clarke’s blood that made him pause. If she was a nightblood kept hidden she would be wary of anyone chasing her. The Coalition nightblood hunters were fearsome warriors and they would’ve been taught to hide just as Ontari had been. Clarke wasn’t wrong and he wondered if any others had managed to survive but from what they’d explored, this was the only place left capable of offering sanctuary. At least within a manageable distance.

He heard a noise at the edge of the river and froze for a moment before feigning ignorance. A shadow moved over the bank and he tracked it even as he watched the fish in the stream. As he speared one he looked up to find the child watching him, spear raised high and ready to attack.

He held their eyes as he shouldered his spear, moving slowly, palms open as he reached for his knife. The child’s eyes watched his hands, its own flexing on the spear.

“Nou get yu daun,” Roan said clearly. “Ai laik natbleeda. Klarke laik natbleeda. Yu laik natbleeda.” (Don’t worry// I am a nightblood. Clarke is a nightblood. You are a nightblood)

He held their eyes as he ran the blade of his knife down his arm, letting the black blood flow clearly. The child’s eyes went to his arm immediately, eyes becoming uncertain before it once again disappeared off into the woods. Now it knew they were all the same. Maybe the child would come to them. 

*~*~*

Clarke glanced out of the corner of her eye when she noticed the nightblood child watching her from the forest and looked down at the drawing, doing her best to hide a smile. She continued to sketch, losing herself in the sweep of the charcoal over the page. She’d only just started so it would take some time still. 

Roan had spotted the child while he was fishing a couple of days before which is what gave her the idea to come here. Both herself and Roan had seen flashes of the small face in their windows since the week they discovered they weren’t alone. It was just a matter of making contact. Roan had agreed that it was better to let the child come to them, they certainly had time to wait.

Clarke felt eyes on her as she sketched and let her injured leg hang in the cool water. It was healing well and she was sure it wasn’t broken since walking was painful but not impossible. Clarke finished off the sketch, taking the page and setting it on the ground under a rock. She glanced back at the bushes where the child was hiding before she put on her boot again and hobbled back to the village. 

“I gave her the picture,” Clarke said as she limped up to the table where Roan sat assembling snares. 

“Her?” He arched an eyebrow. 

“Just a feeling,” Clarke shrugged, grateful when he stood and moved a box for her to rest her foot on. “Maybe the long hair.”

“Not necessarily a defining feature,” he said, eyes laughing at her.

She remembered just how long his hair had been when they met and smiled at him. He looked a little surprised at her humour but things were becoming easier between them once more. It was nice.

“Maybe not,” she agreed as he returned his eyes to his work. “Like I said, just a feeling.”

Clarke pulled her sketchbook out again, picking a new subject to sketch as he concentrated over his knots. She wondered how he would react once he realised who she was sketching but decided it didn’t much matter. She had already sketched her other friends from memory and he was here before her making the details easier to transfer to paper. Especially the graceful slope of the scars around his eyes that had always intrigued her. She wondered when they’d been done, the way they framed his eyes suggested he must have been pretty close to adulthood. One day she would be comfortable enough to ask him, but she worried about upsetting the peace that had fallen between them. 

“Finished?” he asked when she moved on to another page, tracing the lines of Wells’ jaw. She looked up at him, surprised he noticed any change since she was still drawing.

“Finished what?” she asked innocently but all she got was a bland expression in return. “How did you notice?”

“You kept looking at me,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it had been.

“Moba,” she said, making him exhale sharply through his nose. She watched him press his lips together as he looked away and she was starting to think that was as much of a smile as he allowed himself. 

“You’re not,” he said, making her smile instead. She waited to see if he’d ask to see the picture, curious when he didn’t. She returned to her drawing of Wells as Roan cleared his workspace, glancing at him occasionally.

“Do you want to see it?” she asked after he’d finished. The question made her nervous, curious what he’d make of her perception of him and her not incredible talent, but worried she may offend him somehow. He held her eyes, something flashing in the pale depths before he held his hand out to her.

Clarke handed him the loose page watching him look over her work. His eyes scanned the page, face expressionless as usual save a small frown. She waited holding her breath as the silent moment stretched on. He looked up at her, eyes vibrant and expressive but she still wasn’t certain what they were telling her. 

“Oso ste soulou?” (Are we alone) a small voice asked before Roan had a chance to say anything, making their heads snap in the direction of the sound. 

The child stood between two of the smaller huts, Clarke’s portrait clutched in one small hand, spear in the other. 

“Sha,” Roan said, setting his knife on the table. He glanced over at Clarke who held his eyes and nodded.

“Ai laik Roun,” he continued. “Em laik Klarke. Chit yu tagon, strikon?”

“Ai laik Madi,” the child said hesitantly, looking between the two.

“Yu ste enti?” (Are you hungry) Roan asked and Madi nodded, taking a step further into the village. When Roan looked back at Clarke she swore she saw his lips quirk up just slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you[ B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/profile) for everything

Roan watched as the child, Madi, practically inhaled her second bowl of fish stew in less time than her first. She was pale and very thin, her long hair tangled and matted in places. She had obviously been on her own since the world as they all knew it ended. Clarke had been quick to set about organising a bath and had it filled with warm water ready for when the girl had finished eating.

“I’ll go find her some clothes,” Clarke said from beside him, watching the girl with worried eyes. “Hers are torn to bits.”

“You may want to ask her which one is hers,” he said softly, glancing around the village before returning his eyes to Clarke. She looked surprised, her big blue eyes wide as they locked onto his own. “This is her village.”

“How do you know?” she asked, glancing at the girl once more. “She could have found this place like we did.”

“She’s too familiar,” he said, deciding not to mention the girl’s tears when she glanced around what were obviously familiar surroundings. She had fixated on one of the smaller houses near the edge of the village and Roan would wager that was where her family had lived. But they would need to take their time with her. She was already glancing suspiciously at him and Clarke but he was at a loss whether she mistrusted Skaikru or Azgeda more.

“How do I ask her?” Clarke whispered, aware of the child’s attention. “Or should you-?”

“No, you should,” he cut off her question, wanting to watch Madi’s reaction to Clarke. He gave her the translation and gathered his fishing net once more as he watched the interaction play out.

Clarke had crouched down beside Madi to ask the question, the girl’s solemn eyes on the young woman’s face. Madi hesitated, gripping the bowl in her hands before glancing over at him once more. She was frightened but had probably been alone for nearly three months. Roan knew how much you needed other people after such long periods of isolation. And this was a young child. Madi looked back to Clarke before pointing to the hut he’d suspected was hers and Clarke stood, holding out her hand to the child. After another moment of hesitation Madi set down her bowl before taking Clarke’s hand and following her down to the farthest corner of the village.

Roan sat down, leaving the net forgotten in his hands as he stared into the fire. It would seem she knew enough of clan politics to be wary of him. They may have to leave the initial care taking tasks up to Clarke until she trusted them both.

He watched the path closely while Clarke was gone, ears attuned to any noise out of the ordinary as he pondered the puzzle of Madi’s survival. Clarke must have been right that her parents knew she was a nightblood. She’d been hidden away here rather than subjected to the trials at Polis and though Roan was not a father himself, he felt a deep understanding of why she’d been spared. Having spent time away from Azgeda, among the other people of the Coalition he learned that childhood didn’t have to be as harsh as his had been. There didn’t need to be constant battles and violence as it was in Azgeda, especially in its main village. The smaller villages had an easier life, though they lived with fewer resources, but they had treated their fellow villagers with less hostility. But maybe his mother had ensured his exposure to only the violent parts of life. As he grew older Roan learned to see beyond what Nia had tried to portray life and rulership to be about.

Clarke looked worried when she stepped out of the hut, a small bundle of cloth clutched in her hands. She met his eyes as they progressed up the path toward him and he wondered if Madi refused conversation or if Clarke wasn’t comfortable enough to try and speak with her. She knew some Trigedasleng but it wasn’t comprehensive enough for her to follow long conversations or regional dialects and he suspected the perfectionist in her held her back from speaking as much as her lack of knowledge. He’d endeavour to teach her now, ensure she spoke it as well as he did along with what he could teach her of Azgedasleng. He needed an ally when they opened the bunker and when the others returned. Though he suppressed it, he still worried what would become of them both if faced with others once more. 

Clarke checked the temperature of the water, setting out soap beside the tub and showing it all to Madi. The girl looked both intrigued and terrified, glancing over at him for a moment before starting to peel layers of torn clothing from her body. When she tugged the remnants of her shirt off, exposing her too-thin torso, he saw Clarke visibly pull away and motioned for her to join him by the fire once she’d assisted the girl into the large tub. 

“She didn’t say a word,” Clarke said as she sat beside him, keeping the tub in her peripheral vision but looking away to give the child privacy. “I’m not sure if I should be relieved because I have to admit my Trig isn’t what it was. Or should be.”

“It’s not bad,” he said, making her huff and shake her head. “Their dialect is similar to Trikru.”

“But we haven’t exactly been practicing,” Clarke pointed out to his amusement. “I know I need to learn. I should have asked you-“ she shook her head in frustration.

“Think you’d’ve anticipated finding a natbleeda and needing a language you’ve only begun to learn when we had only just started to establish a place to survive?” he asked, amusement rich in his tone. “You could not have anticipated this. Nor prepared for it.”

“But I should know more Trig by now,” she argued. “I spent enough time in Polis. On my own too before you found me. There was time.”

“Before the world ended or while you were attempting to stop it?” he asked, catching her eyes and holding them until she cracked a small smile. “Clarke. You have plenty of time to learn. I will teach you.”

“But she’ll know I’m Skaikru,” Clarke said. “I know we weren’t exactly well-liked.”

“And you think she doesn’t fear Azgeda?” Roan asked with a shake of his head. “We cannot change who our people were but we can show her that we only have each other.”

“But-“ she started, looking down once more. “I can’t talk to her.” Her voice was quiet and frustrated and Roan suddenly understood her a little better. Who had told her that she must bear the weight of everyone else? It seemed something Clarke was unable to let go of. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly before rising and moving to where Madi sat in the large tub. He’d speak to her, ensure that she knew where she now found herself.

Madi watched his approach, her eyes flickering up to the scars around his own, fear sparkling in their depths. Roan softened his expression as much as he could, grabbing a small stool and setting it behind her head. She craned her neck to look behind herself at him as he sat down, grabbing the soap and comb Clarke had set down on the edge of the tub.

“Will you let me help you with your hair?” he asked Madi, glancing at the mess of hair and knowing how long it would take to brush it through. It was almost strange speaking his language once more after so many months in Clarke’s company. 

“Yes,” she answered softly, turning her head forward, hands gripping the edge of the tub. 

Roan dipped the soap into the water and started the process of massaging through the suds, rinsing her hair carefully, allowing the dirty water to fall onto the earth below his feet. He washed it a second time, waiting until the water ran clear before reaching for a bottle of oil he’d found in one of the huts which would help detangle the mess of the girl’s hair.

“You’re Azgeda,” Madi said as he busied himself with the comb.

“Yes,” he agreed, waiting for her to accept that information and ask whatever she wanted to know.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“Because this is the only place where things grow,” he answered honestly. “The only life we found after.”

“Were you in Polis?” she asked next, loosening her grip on the tub.

“No,” Roan said, using his fingers to separate a large tangle. “I was- in a place you will not know, little one. A place the Coalition didn’t know to find. Clarke saved me.”

“Clarke is Skaikru?” Madi asked, turning her head to where Clarke was sitting near the fire. “Nomon told me stories about them. They fell from the sky and killed the mountain men.”

“Clarke killed the mountain men,” Roan said, no lack of pride in his tone. “She is Wanheda. Did your nomon tell you about her?”

“I heard whispers from the elders,” she admitted softly, eyes now fixed on the blonde. “Why would the Wanheda help Azgeda?”

“Because she is my friend,” Roan said, surprised at how the word made him feel. Clarke was a lot of things to him, but he wasn’t entirely sure a friend was one of them.

“Did she bring Praimfaya?” Madi asked and he couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped at the question.

“No, little one,” he said, running the comb through a section he’d finally managed to detangle. “She tried to save us all but there were many who wouldn’t listen.”

“But you did?” Madi asked, glancing at him.

“No, I did not,” he sighed, making her frown. “But she still saved my life.”

Madi turned back and sat in silence for a long time as he continued to work on her hair. He could practically hear her thinking but he was a very patient man and would wait for her to be ready. He lost himself in the motions of brushing through the tangles of hair that fell in wet lines over the edge of the tub. He let his mind wander as Madi pondered his words, sorting through what must be a monumental amount of new information for someone so young. For her to have survived so long alone, in a village full of her people left to decay where they died, was a horror few could ever begin to understand. Even without conflict, their end had been unexpected and there was violence in that. Violence from an unknown source, even worse, a source that she would be unable to understand. He barely understood it himself. 

And now Madi was confronted with two unknown people from krus she had likely been raised to fear. Roan was amazed at her bravery and resourcefulness. It showed a strength of character very few possessed even in adulthood and should be nurtured as soon as she trusted them. Maybe by nurturing her strengths she may be able to move beyond what had happened here. 

“I saw an Azgeda warrior once,” Madi said, interrupting his musings.

“Really?” he asked.

“He was helping with the harvest,” she said softly, as if sharing a secret. “Nontu sent me to give him water.”

“I remember,” Roan said, the memory of a small dark-haired girl running out with a skin full of cool water he’d been desperate for.

Madi stiffened in the bath but Roan’s mind drew him back to the time he’d spent here during his last year of banishment. He’d been moving for months, no one willing to harbour a banished warrior even if he did his best to disguise his markings. He was exhausted both in body and spirit, unsure if he’d ever find a place to settle again. He’d even entertained the notion of seeking out Flokru in a moment of weakness when he realised he hadn’t spoken to anyone in over two months.

“It was you?” Madi’s voice was soft but incredulous.

“Yes, little one,” he assured her, meeting her eyes and grasping at the wisps of memory of the girl who brought him water each afternoon. “You had blue ribbons braided in your hair.”

Madi blinked at him, eyes wide and full of emotions he couldn’t hope to keep up with. It was certainly too much. All this death, being alone for so long only to be confronted with a ghost from her past. Someone her whole village shunned, save the elders who invited him to share their fire at night while everyone else shied away in fear. Except for the little girl who made a game of chasing him through the stalks of wheat, hoping to sneak up on him by the seventh day of harvest but her excited giggles gave her away each time. It had made the first smile break over his face in over a year.

“Why were you with us?” she asked, frowning and looking at Clarke. “Nomon said you were a king now.”

“I was,” he agreed, feeling the weight settle over him. “Not when I was here. Then I was no one. Like I am now.”

“Why are you no one if she is still Wanheda?” Madi asked and Roan followed her line of sight to find Clarke watching them, a deep frown between her brows as she pretended to sketch by the fire. “If she is Wanheda then you are a king.”

“I cannot be a king if I have no people to lead,” Roan pointed out, looking away when Clarke looked ready to come over to where they sat. 

He knew he should encourage her to join them, to settle the awkwardness and act as a translator when needed. Children needed to be cared for. Azgeda could learn from the other krus. And Madi, above all, deserved the gentleness and fierce loyalty he knew Clarke was capable of. But he hesitated, not ready to reveal more about himself to her yet.

“But-“ Madi argued, turning again to look at him but he shook his head.

“It is no matter,” he chided softly, tugging gently on one of the last tangles in her hair. “All we have now is each other. Clarke and I will take care of you.”

“What about the others?” Madi asked, innocence practically dripping from her tone. “The ones who were with you.”

“It is only us,” Roan said, seeing the devastation cross her face. “There are others, but we cannot reach them now.”

“For how long?” Madi looked back to Clarke who had apparently decided to join them without waiting for his invitation. Roan was only surprised it took her so long to defy his request to rest her injured leg.

“For five years,” Roan answered as Clarke’s uneven footsteps halted beside him. Madi’s eyes widened at him before moving to Clarke. She seemed at a loss once more, quietly staring up at the blonde.

“Feeling better?” Clarke asked Madi, glancing at Roan for confirmation she’d spoken correctly. Madi nodded, looking at her knees in the bath and Roan watched disappointment flicker over the blonde’s features.

“I am nearly finished,” he said, indicating the child’s long hair and debating for a moment. He could finish the task himself, but knew that actions would speak louder than words. “Can you finish while I find a blade to trim it?”

“Sure,” she replied immediately in Gonasleng, before throwing in a soft ‘sha’ in case Madi failed to understand.

He stood from the stool, his body protesting the time he’d spent hunched over his task and rolled his shoulders before handing the comb over to the blonde. She gave him another look filled with insecurity he’d rarely glimpsed before. He put one hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently before helping her sit on the low stool and positioning it close enough for her to work. He’d get Clarke to cut the girl’s hair and help her dress, the tasks the girl’s mother would do for her normally. It would be a good place to start building trust.

Roan moved back into the bathhouse, allowing the memories of the village to fill his mind rather than push them away as he’d done since they came here. He knew where he’d find scissors made for cutting hair, he’d used them himself to trim his beard when he arrived so many months ago. He’d been amazed at the ease with which the Elders took him in. Their own warriors had gone to Polis to discuss the new threat that had fallen from the sky. It was a time Roan had spent as far from Polis as he’d been able to. Once they had seen an able body who had skills to exchange for labour it hadn’t taken much time for them to offer him room in a small hut at one end of the village.

The others had avoided him but it suited Roan fine. He’d worked the fields from dawn until dusk, pausing only to eat and drink until all the fields had been harvested. That was the time he thought he’d be asked to leave but the elders had surprised him once more, asking for his help with milling the wheat and preparing the grain for storage. The weeks that followed had taught him everything he needed to know about farming and food storage, knowledge that he’d hoped to use if he ever returned home to Azgeda and to his people. They still would lack the climate for the type of farming that thrived further south but the knowledge would prove valuable. Little did he know how valuable it would be to him now. He’d be able to teach Clarke and Madi what he knew and they could grow their own grain, prepare the larger fields for grain and vegetables for when the bunker could be opened. They could find a way to live here, expand and grow. If the Spirits allowed it.

Roan sighed, grabbing the scissors, hoping to dismiss the foolishness of his own thoughts. He should know better than to think the Spirits had anything to do with this, or any interest in what happened to him or the others. He’d lost faith in anything but himself a long time ago. But when he left the hut to find Clarke and Madi both laughing at something, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was still something left to believe in. Perhaps there had been a reason he found his place here before. 


	9. Chapter 9

“She should sleep with you,” Roan said to Clarke a week after Madi had appeared in their lives. 

“What if she doesn’t want to?” Clarke asked, looking to where Madi sat near the fire, helping to shuck some beans they’d harvested that morning. “She barely speaks to me.”

“She speaks as much as she’s able,” Roan said quietly, which did nothing to settle the worry that rose in her chest. She already felt like she should be connecting with Madi better, more completely. But the little girl was still withdrawn and spoke only little to them, her smiles rare and even more infrequent. 

“I know, but-” Clarke didn’t know what her objection was about to be. “Should she come to my hut or should I go to hers?”

“Go make space for her in yours,” Roan replied looking at Madi. “I’ll go speak with her.”

“Okay,” the blonde agreed, unable to argue with him as he strode away. 

She moved away into her hut to clear an area for another pallet in her sleeping area. She knew that Madi needed to be closer to one of them at night. She’d heard the girl crying a couple of nights ago when she couldn’t sleep. When Clarke sat down beside Madi’s bed, the girl’s hand was quick to wrap around her own, but it was as much as she allowed in the way of comfort. Madi spoke more with Roan but went to Clarke when she needed help with something. The blonde could only hope trust would continue to bloom between them all. 

“Ready?” Roan asked as he entered her small hut, eyes scanning the room without missing a thing. Madi followed behind him, a small basket of belongings in her arms. 

“Absolutely,” Clarke smiled a little nervously. “Miya, Madi.” (Come on, Madi)

The girl complied, moving to the newly cleared area while Roan went to fetch her pallet. Clarke tried her best to reassure the girl, talking about the space, hoping she wasn’t thinking only of who had lived here before. There were many ghosts here and it would be very hard to exorcise all of them. 

“Chon dison bilaik?” (Who is this?) Madi asked softly from over near the small table where Clarke kept her drawing and knitting supplies. The girl held up a sketch of Raven Clarke had been working on the day before. 

“Ai lukot,” (my friend) Clarke answered as Roan came in with Madi’s pallet. “Raven.”

“Em nou stedaun?” (Is she dead?) Madi asked, making Roan glance over at them. They had told Madi a little about where the others may be, but there hadn’t been a way she felt comfortable explaining about space yet. The bunker had upset Madi enough at the time. 

“Emo ste gon audaskai,” Clarke said, taking in Madi’s surprise. The girl glanced up at the roof of the hut as if she could see the sky beyond it before she returned her eyes to Clarke. 

“Hani?” (how many) Madi asked, looking between her and Roan. 

“Sen,” Clarke looked to Roan. “Raven, Bellamy, Monty, Harper, Murphy, Emori. Echo.”

Madi didn’t say anything more, but returned to looking through Clarke’s drawings. The blonde didn’t have the heart to stop her even when the scrutiny would normally make her feel exposed. It was amazing how old the girl seemed sometimes, far beyond her six years. Her eyes were so mournful and hollow, her gaze firm and unwavering. Clarke hoped they would be able to give her a semblance of a childhood here. 

“En’s odon,” (it’s done) Roan rising from his task and moving to stand beside her. His voice was softer and he leaned closer, switching to English when he added, “Help her get settled. I’ll finish preparing dinner.”

“Thank you,” Clarke held his eyes, hoping he understood the weight of her words. 

“Take your time,” he nodded before he disappeared outside, leaving Clarke alone with Madi in her new home. 

Clarke was a little at a loss as Madi continued to inspect the hut and all of her insecurities about her capacity to mother a child rose immediately. Madi had known this place as it was before, belonging to someone else she’d known. Clarke had come in and made the space her own, reorganised and rearranged, respectfully removed more personal items of the previous inhabitants but Madi may have loved the family who’d been here. Who’d made this place theirs once before. Maybe avoiding that was too much to ask. 

“Did you know the family that lived here before?” Clarke asked, breaking the heavy silence, her Trig still halting and unsure. Madi’s eyes locked on Clarke’s, holding them as she considered her answer. 

“Yes,” the girl said finally, eyes moving back to the large open space. “Not well.”

Clarke was flooded with relief at the answer, happy that she hadn’t picked someplace that Madi would have known too well. 

“Will you teach me?” Madi asked, fingering the small scrap of yarn Clarke had found in the hut. 

“To knit?” Madi’s frown made Clarke realise she’d answered in English and shook her head, moving over to where the needles lay. She picked them up, holding them up to the girl. “Knit.”

“Knit,” Madi repeated slowly, voice unsure but Clarke smiled widely in response. 

“I will,” Clarke continued as Madi’s frown became less concerned and more confused. “Sha.”

“Muchof,” Madi smiled softly, looking down at the table. Clarke made it a new goal to search the village for more knitting supplies so she could make it a priority to teach the girl. Maybe they would be okay after all. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Clarke said, holding out her hand, ignoring the twinge at using English once more. Madi would have to learn at some point. “Let’s set up your bed, okay? Bag? (bed)” 

Madi nodded, tightening her fingers around Clarke’s as they moved toward the pallet Roan had laid out in the sleeping area near Clarke’s. Conversation was halting but they made do as they set Madi’s things to right in the hut and covered her bed in furs and soft cloths. By the time they joined Roan outside, Clarke’s smile felt more genuine, her shoulders just a little lighter. Madi was still quiet as they ate, but she smiled a little when Roan told her a children’s story he’d heard often as a child and Clarke felt the constriction in her chest ease. They could do this. 

*~*~*~

“Her name is Madi. She’s six years old and from the village. She’s been alone for around three months by our best estimates. It’s a long time for a child. 

When I - never mind. Not to mention that she had found her friends and family in the village. 

But we are trying not to focus on what’s happened. What’s been lost. Now that we have the Rover we’re thinking about going to Polis and the Ark again. Scavenge properly this time. Bring back as much as we can. We can do the trip to Polis in a day, but we’ll get out there and spend the night. There’ll be somewhere to park the Rover and we’ll sleep in it if we need to. Madi is a little skeptical but she’s always wanted to leave the valley. We’re trying to make it an adventure. A bonding trip, can you believe it?” 

*~*~*

“Do we have enough water?” Clarke asked, checking the basket of provisions in the back as Roan loaded in a second large container of the liquid. 

“We have enough for two weeks,” he replied with an amused tone. 

“And food?” she asked as she triple checked that they had brought enough to survive on just in case they were stranded somewhere. They had packed their bags and a tent for just that circumstance so if the Rover broke down they would have the ability to come back to the Valley. 

“We have enough of everything except that which we need to take from Polis,” Roan said, raising his eyebrows at her when she turned to argue. She felt her cheeks warm but she couldn’t help worrying more now that they were bringing Madi along. “We will be fine, Wandheda.”

“By your leave I ask permission to double-check the provisions, haihefa,” Clarke returned in irritation, surprised when he cocked his head to one side as if he understood the reference. That or he was reacting to her use of his title. 

“Madi!” he called out instead of answering her prod, turning to watch the small child come scampering up the path, a bundle of cloth in her hands. “Yu na gaf pleni in gon soujon, strikon?” (Do you have what you need for the journey?)

“Sha,” Madi said, handing her small parcel of clothing to Clarke to put in the back. 

All that was left was to set off regardless of how nervous it made Clarke. But they piled into the Rover and were on their way to Polis before she had much time to consider the matter further. It would take them around five hours of driving to get all the way to the former capital of the Coalition but compared to walking, it was nothing. 

Clarke drove carefully through the wasteland, eyes constantly on the sky for the first sign of an impending storm even though Roan had taken that task. They managed to bring a couple of spare solar panels but would go back for more one day to ensure they had plenty of spares in case most of the ones on the Rover were compromised. 

“Pay attention to navigating, Clarke,” Roan rumbled as they approached the ridge that had given them a view of Polis before the death wave. “I have watched the skies well enough so far.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t want to be caught out again,” she shook her head, looking down at where Madi sat between them, eyes large and fixed on the bleakness surrounding them. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”   
  


“Unless one pair is responsible for getting this thing to where we're going,” he pointed out, his displeasure at the vehicle evident. It amused Clarke, knowing that he appreciated the Rover yet treated it with wariness, even though he’d spent more time in it than anyone else who wasn’t Skaikru. More time than many Skaikru for that matter. 

“Fair point,” Clarke acknowledged, forcing her eyes to the ground ahead. 

This part of the trip was more treacherous, lots of debris making the road less manageable. She knew she should trust the tasks they’d agreed on to Roan but Clarke felt more responsible for getting them to Polis than she had before. Madi added a dimension to surviving that hadn’t existed when she knew, deep down, that Roan was more capable at it than she was. He was the one that Madi turned to first, and though Clarke knew it was largely due to the language barrier, she was desperate to show the girl that she was there for her too. Maybe this trip would allow her to prove that to her. 

*~*~*

They made it to Polis just after midday to his relief. The temperature had certainly dropped and Clarke had been right about them needing more winter clothing. He knew enough of the buildings, even destroyed, to know where it would be most advantageous to search, though it had the potential to lead to some gruesome discoveries. Many people had died in this place and there would be remains still, though the air no longer had the cloying stench of rot and decay. He steeled himself as they exited the vehicle, pushing away his own unease. Polis was not a place he wanted to remain long.

“Where do we start?” Clarke asked, looking around, avoiding the bunker and tower.

“There was a large storehouse near the tower,” he said, pointing in the general direction. “They would have furs and clothing stored to sell in the market. Most likely bedding and other things that will be of use to us.”

“Right,” Clarke took a deep breath before adjusting the scarf and cowl around her face. “Let’s get going. It’s already freezing.”

“You do not know cold if this bothers you,” he couldn’t help but tease, her eyes narrowing at him in response. “It appears we’ll need double what we came for.”

“Jerk,” she muttered, making him smile behind his own cowl. He hadn’t heard the word before, but the context was clear enough for him to decipher the meaning.

“Miya, strikon,” Roan called as Madi started wandering off. “Em ste heri raun hir (It’s dangerous here).”

“Sha,” she called even as she kept wandering in her chosen direction. He shook his head but knew there wasn’t too much trouble she could get into. Nevertheless, she should still be listening to him.

“Can’t wait for the teenage years,” Clarke said, watching the girl walk away. “Then she’ll really stop listening to us.”

Roan glanced over at Clarke’s words, surprised at the surge of emotion that came with them. Madi had been with them for only a couple of weeks but apparently Clarke had taken on her care without a second thought and assumed his continued role in their lives. Or at least Madi’s. It was heart-warming and made him fall into step with her, watching Clarke watch the little girl.

“Miya, Madi!” Clarke called and the girl’s head shot up, discovering just how far away she’d gotten and she hurried her steps back. “Where do you want me to look?”

“I’ll show you when we get there,” Roan said, relieved he had a moment to adjust to the feeling of having the girls as a part of his life while they walked over the uneven ground. It was a humbling feeling. He felt it weigh heavier in his heart than the lives of many more. 

Clarke continued the walk to the storeroom he led them towards in silence, looking around at the ruins, obviously lost in her own thoughts. She had her own nightmares of this place. Memories he was certain echoed within her as they did in him. His chest ached, the scarred skin stretching over the old wound, skin that long ago should have lost the ability to feel. Back here once more, Polis an empty wasteland, a graveyard where bones lay scattered in the dust and debris of destruction, his own felt heavy and muscles sluggish. 

“Roan?” Clarke’s voice pulled his attention over to her concerned frown. “Are you okay?”

“Sha,” he murmured, following the drop of her eyes to his chest to find his hand pressing hard against his sternum. When he met her eyes again he caught the flash of recognition in hers and ground down hard on his teeth before forcing his feet to move faster to their destination. Now wasn’t the time to dwell on ghosts and old wounds. 

“I should be able to dig out the doorway,” he said, finding the storehouse somewhat intact. “Watch Madi.”

“I can help,” she insisted, but he shot her a quelling look. It must have surprised her, judging by the way she nearly flinched in reaction, frown deepening as she held his eyes. Her mouth opened, presumably to argue her point, and he turned away to deal with the small pile of rubble blocking what used to be one of the entrances before she got the words out. 

“Madi!” he heard her call out before her steps retreated, leaving him to his work. 

He allowed his mind to clear as he pushed his body, focussing on the strain in his muscles and depth of his breath while he worked, losing himself in the physical rather than his thoughts. It was a tactic he’d learned to employ during his banishment, when his thoughts and fears weighed too heavily for him to bear; he could allow himself escape through physical work. There wasn’t much to move, but it was enough to leave him sweating, his arms shaking from the exertion. 

“Odon?” Clarke asked, holding Madi by the hand as they came back from wherever they had explored together while he worked. He nodded as Madi handed him a waterskin and he drank deeply. 

“Hoz up!” Clarke smiled down at the girl before she looked at Roan. “How much do you think we’ll find?”

“As much as you desire,” he answered plainly, knowing the riches that had at one time been stored inside. It may have been looted in the end, but he’d kept men on the doors at all times, knowing instability bred arrogance and selfishness which often meant stealing from what should be available. 

The interior of the storage area was dark enough to require the use of the electric torches Clarke had brought with them. The light revealed the dusty air, small particles floating in the beams. 

“Wow,” Clarke breathed, looking around the open space. “Truly anything we need.”

She wasn’t wrong. The storehouse was full of furs and trinkets ready to sell at market or to trade among the people of Polis. As Clarke moved farther into the space, Roan moved to where it was most likely people seeking shelter would have hidden. He didn’t want Madi finding any more bodies. 

His fear was for naught as the large space was empty of any human remains so he moved instead to inspect the selection of leather and clothing stored in one corner. He assembled enough finished pieces as well as lengths of cloth to last a few seasons and piled them on an empty table for transport to the Rover when Clarke joined him. 

“Well at least I don’t have to attempt to sew clothes yet,” she smiled as she picked up a pair of trousers that were obviously too large for her. 

“Not a skill you were taught?” he asked, looking over her shoulder to see Madi inspecting a table full of trinkets. There wasn’t anything that could do her specific harm here but he kept a weathered eye on her whereabouts nevertheless. 

“No,” the blonde shook her head as she committed herself to the task of sorting through the pre-made clothing, putting a few pieces aside just as he had earlier. “I can repair them, but start from scratch? I’m sure I could figure it out but it wouldn't be pretty.”

“Not sure who you have to impress,” he commented, leaning back against the table, taking the opportunity to rest a little before he needed to move supplies. Clarke gave him a look that made him frown before her cheeks flushed darker and she looked away, concentrating on her task. Interesting. 

“I guess I have the time to learn now,” she mumbled a while later, eyes still averted. He cocked his head as he studied her, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade as she frowned. “What?”

“Are there any domestic tasks you do know?” he asked genuinely curious, but she stiffened her shoulders at his question. 

“Because I can’t cook or sew or know how to properly preserve food?” Her question was biting and a little sarcastic, amusing him when he realised he’d ruffled her feathers. He licked his lips, forcing his expression to remain neutral as he studied her. “I was trained in medicine, that was my focus, not to pass on the knowledge like some others. But I do know how to knit.”

“I wasn’t implying you should know,” he pointed out, enjoying the spark of irritation in her eyes. “Your medical training is by far the more important skill. Especially in present company.”

“Really?” she arched an eyebrow at him, obviously choosing to remain offended. “Not sure it would keep me alive as long.”

“I would be dead now without your knowledge,” he pointed out, all humour dropping from his tone and the defiance drained from her eyes. “Be happy our skills compliment each other. You would have learned how to store grain or make food eventually.”

“You have a lot of faith in my abilities,” Clarke pointed out, voice soft, expression hesitant. “Especially considering you still don’t let me cook our dinner.”

“I don’t need another demonstration of your medical knowledge,” Roan decided to tease, not wanting to address her earlier comment. He gave her a small smile before he pushed away from the table, gathering the clothes he’d selected and moving toward the furs. “If we select enough furs and lay them down in the back of the Rover it should make for good bedding. In the morning we can load the remainder and take it back with us.”

“I’ll help you as soon as I’m finished here,” she said with a nod, her eyes narrowed in consideration. “Can you ask Madi to come over here so we can get her some proper leathers?”

He nodded and moved away to speak to the girl, hoping to lose himself in work once more and keep the growing thoughts of Clarke’s easy smiles out of his mind for a while longer. 

*~*~*

“Ething?” Clarke asked Madi, pointing to the pile of clothing she had helped the child gather. Madi nodded and Clarke inspected the pile. She would go through and get a few things in larger sizes too, just to avoid too many frequent trips here in the future but it looked like she’d chosen enough to get by for a long while. 

“Os,” (good) she smiled at Madi, searching for the words she needed. “Yu ste emti?” (are you hungry?”) 

When Madi nodded, Clarke looked around for Roan who was busy sorting through a large pile of furs on the far end of the old warehouse. 

“Yu na as Roun op?” (Can you ask Roan) Clarke requested as she gathered one pile of clothing to move to the Rover. “Dauntaim don kom up.” (it’s time for a rest)

Madi nodded, leaving Clarke to assume she’d made herself understood. Not that she could readily remember what the word for break was. She shook her head as she berated herself quietly, wishing again that she’d taken the time to learn more vocabulary. Some days she swore she remembered more Cantonese and Latin than she ever did Trig, but it didn’t truly matter she supposed. She’d learn. She’d have to if she wanted to speak with Madi freely. 

She met Roan and Madi at the entry to the warehouse, setting her bundle down and wondering where they should make camp for the night. It was still early evening and they’d found a good place to park the Rover where it would remain safe from even the most violent storms, but Clarke couldn’t help worrying. They’d sleep in the back of the Rover like Roan suggested, the furs would make for a comfortable night for all of them, even if it would be a little cramped. 

“I know of a place,” Roan said to Clarke after Madi asked him about cooking their dinner. She was still amazed that he recognized so much of the ruined city. The lack of landmarks had really skewed her sense of where she was, but she supposed she’d spent less time here than she’d thought. 

Roan led them to a small building away from the warehouse and where they parked the Rover. Inside he walked confidently to the corner where a small fire pit was located and kneeled down before it to start a fire. It didn’t take long for them to have a meal heating over it. Madi settled down beside Roan, pulling out a small toy to show him that she’d obviously found in the warehouse earlier. Clarke took the opportunity to duck out of the building, leaving the pair to watch the food while she grabbed more clothing to bring home. 

Clarke looked up to the sky, frowning at the brown-grey clouds that cast the world in a dirty pallor. It blocked out a lot of the sunlight here, but the winds up high seemed to be moving the clouds along in the sky so she was hopeful the pollution would eventually clear. Maybe not the first year, but before they could open the bunker. She glanced at the ruins of the tower as she trekked slowly through what had once been a busy street, pushing down the disappointment that she couldn’t join her mother and their friends underground. Now that they had found the valley, Clarke regretted that she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to spend five years below ground without fresh air and water. 

She set herself to her task, bringing armfuls of clothing back to where they’d set space aside, carefully loading some baskets for each of them, folding clothes as best as she could. She wandered back through the rows of merchandise, looking at all the objects that had made up a busy life here before destruction stole too many lives. There was a table full of small toys and objects intended for children where Clarke paused, picking up a small bag full of marbles and marvelling at the small glass spheres. 

“Shopping for games, Wanheda?” Roan’s voice startled her, not having heard his approach. He was nearly catlike in his ability to sneak up on her, silent until he wanted to make himself known.

“Should we bring something for Madi?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder to find him holding up a crudely sewn doll. “Like a gift?”

“For what?” he asked, his head cocked to one side curiously. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted, feeling a little foolish at having suggested it. “Do you have nameday celebrations? Birthdays? I don’t know what you celebrate.”

“Depends,” he answered, putting the doll back down on the table and picking up a small wooden box. “Different milestones were celebrated by different kru.”

“What does Azgeda celebrate?” Clarke asked, expecting the stiffening of his shoulders before it happened. 

“There are different ceremonies for accomplishments,” he said, putting the box down, face shuttering. “Marking ceremonies. But we rarely celebrate aging.”

“Does anyone?” Clarke picked up another small box, opening the lid and peeking inside to find what appeared to be wooden puzzle pieces. 

“Yes,” he said but didn’t expand. 

“Did Madi’s people?” she prodded, hating that he’d shut down again. She wished she could ask about Azgeda without his defenses rising immediately. That he didn’t mistake her curiosity for anything but what it was. 

“I believe so,” he nodded, sweeping his eyes over the table. “Pick something if you wish. If you hide it in one of our baskets it will remain a surprise.”

“Is it a good idea?” She had to ask. “I don’t want to offend her.”

“Offend a child with a toy?” he asked, eyes lightening again in amusement. 

It struck her immediately how handsome he was when he softened his expression a little. He was always imposing, something primal and dangerous about him, but when he actually opened himself enough to show her a softer emotion he was beautiful. She wished she could inspect him closely, trace the lines of the scars on his face, or even more so, the ones on his back that she remembered so well. But he pulled away when she looked too long, hiding himself away behind his mask, letting the king defend the man inside. It made her sad to realise they’d returned to where they’d started so long ago. 

“What do you celebrate?” His question made her realise that she hadn’t answered his earlier one, but maybe he was content to leave it as rhetorical. She looked back at the table, selecting a few small trinkets for Madi, including the doll he’d been inspecting earlier. 

“Birthdays,” she said as casually as she could manage. “If you were married you’d celebrate the date every year too. Not with gifts as such, but you’d acknowledge it.”

“When is your birthday?” Roan asked and she paused to look over at him in surprise. He looked a little surprised himself at having asked the question but she knew better than to say anything about it, choosing instead to answer his question.

“October 21,” she said quietly, looking at him carefully as she asked for his in return. He narrowed his eyes in thought, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he didnt know or didn’t want to tell her. 

“I was born near the end of winter,” he said finally. “In the second lunar month of the old ways.”

“February?” Clarke asked, curious at how much he knew about the calendar system Skaikru still used. Whenever he answered one of her questions it always spawned a hundred more. 

“I believe so,” he said, looking away. “I cannot tell you more than that.”

“Will Madi know?” Clarke asked, keeping the questions simple though she was itching to ask him more about himself. 

“Perhaps,” he said, the narrow-eyed look he gave her all she needed to know he wasn’t fooled by her apparent disinterest. But at least the light was back in his eyes. Maybe it would mean she could ask him more later. “I came to fetch you to dinner.”

“Oh,” she said, remembering what she’d left the pair doing. “I’ll be right there.”

He gave her another scrutinising look before he nodded and moved back to the door. He paused at the threshold, looking back at her over his shoulder.

“Don’t take too long,” he called out, disappearing outside without another glance. 

The rumbling in her stomach argued effectively for her compliance, but she couldn’t help moving to the table of furs on the way to the baskets. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for, Roan having selected from the more utilitarian and hardy furs, rather than the highly prized ones in the back. She ran her hands over the soft, black fur, folding it carefully and tucking it into the bottom of her basket. She may not know how to sew clothing, but a warm winter cloak shouldn’t be too difficult. And now that she knew when his birthday was, or at least nearly, she could certainly manage to get something put together for him. 

*~*~*

Night had fallen quickly over Polis. The darkness had spread faster than he was used to. He knew they were safe here. Or as safe as they could be, but he still found himself making a last patrol of the area before he joined Clarke and Madi by the Rover. 

“Ogoud?” Clarke asked him when he returned, putting one last fur down on the floor of the back of the Rover. The last time they had slept in the vehicle he’d still been angry with Clarke but now that things had settled a little more, sharing such close proximity with her was more intimidating than before. 

“Sha,” he agreed, remembering her question and worried expression before he looked to Madi to redirect his thoughts. “Hofli yu na rid yu op os, strikon.” (I hope you sleep well, little one)

“Yu seintaim,” (you too) the girl said solemnly as he lifted her into the back. Clarke pulled back the furs as she settled, tucking them around the girl with a soft smile. 

“Rid yu op os,” (sleep well) Clarke said quietly, running a hand down Madi’s cheek. “Osir laik hir.” (We’re here)

“Taim yu gaf enti,” (If you need anything) Roan added, moving to sit near the fire for a while longer. He would sleep soon too, but he could tell Clarke wanted to speak to him before they also slept. 

“Do you want to leave immediately tomorrow?” she asked, settling down beside him, stretching her feet closer to the fire. 

“We should leave when we’re ready,” he said. “We do not know when the storms are likely to strike yet.”

“No, that’s what worries me,” she sighed to his amusement.

“Everything worries you,” he pointed out and earned himself a glare. “We know what to do if we encounter one. We will be fine.”

“That’s what we thought about those rocks in the desert,” Clarke pointed out, eyes sparkling in the low light. “And then there were mutant worms.”

“Mutant?” he frowned, trying to recall what the word meant. 

“Like frikdreina,” she explained carefully. “But not for people. Like the two-headed deer. The radiation has changed them. Caused a mutation, or a change.” 

“I understand,” he said, contemplating how much had been affected by the radiation. What creatures didn’t exist before the first Praimfaya. Deer were obvious examples, sure. He’d gathered as much in his studies of the old texts they had in Azgeda. “The journey is short in the Rover. Even if we have to stop for a storm we could leave after midday and make it home by dinner.”

“True,” she agreed, worrying her lip between her teeth. The action caught his attention, his eyes dipping down, lost somewhere between a fantasy and a memory. He looked away abruptly, shifting slightly to regain his focus. 

“What else do we need to bring back this time?” Clarke asked him and he sorted through the list he’d had in his mind. The things they needed most like furs, clothing and boots they’d already set aside. In terms of what they truly needed they were probably finished, but there was a lot more here that could be useful, if only to entertain them later. 

“We have what we need,” he said finally. “But there is still a lot to explore. If the market storehouse survived, the archives may have. There will be books.”

“Books?” She sounded more surprised than she should have been and he looked over at her in confusion. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

“Where did you assume we kept the knowledge of the Coalition?” he asked, watching her pale a little as she realised it was something she hadn’t considered. He wished he was surprised at her bias, but it seemed she shared the view of many Skaikru that they were all savages who knew little of the world before. 

“I asked Lexa,” she said, staring into the fire. “She said that there were people. I assumed that meant knowledge was predominantly oral. I haven’t seen Trigedasleng written down.”

“Why would you?” he asked, a little mollified that it wasn’t outright bias on her part. Lexa would have kept such knowledge from Clarke regardless of her feelings for the blonde. 

“I-” Clake started, but shook her head. “I don’t know. So there is a library?”

“Of a sort,” he nodded. “We could see if we can get inside of it. We will need to teach Madi to read.”

“Yeah, we will,” she said, blinking at him like the thought had only just occurred to her. “We should go back to Arkadia, too. See if anything survived. Any more tech.”

“It looked unlikely,” he pointed out, mostly so she wouldn’t get her hopes up. “But we can. We have enough rations and the trip from here will be shorter.”

“So we go to Arkadia,” she nodded, looking nervous. “After we see if we can find some books.”

“It’s a good plan,” he wanted to reassure her, catching her eyes when she looked over at him. She looked so soft in the dying light of the fire, her eyes shadowed and dark, calling to mind other emotions that could inspire such a shift. “We should get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” Clarke whispered, licking her lips again. His eyes dipped down, entranced by the glisten of firelight left behind. Clarke was watching him when he met her eyes once more, this time the darkness in them had a different source and he knew he was only inviting trouble. They had many years before them. It was time to remember that. 

Roan stood and checked the fire wouldn’t cause a problem as it died down overnight, hearing Clarke rise behind him. He didn’t know what to say to fill the heavy silence between them as they settled in to sleep in the back of the Rover on opposite sides of Madi. At least the girl was there between them. He sighed as he settled in, staring at the ceiling of the vehicle as Clarke’s breaths slowly lengthened into sleep. 

Roan turned to look over at Clarke and Madi. He let his eyes linger on Clarke’s face then, her lips parted slightly in sleep, breaths slow and steady. She was truly beautiful. It was a rare blessing for him to be able to watch her so openly, to trace the lines of her face with his eyes. To simply watch her without feeling like he was doing something wrong. He sighed again, knowing the foolish paths of his thoughts and the futility of any of those hopes. Hadn’t he suffered through enough of them only minutes earlier? He closed his eyes firmly, forcing his own breaths to slow and deepen, hoping to encourage sleep. They had a long day tomorrow and he needed to be alert so he could watch over his girls. 


	10. Chapter 10

“Lagen. Ste kefa,” (Slowly. Be careful) Clarke called out as Madi disappeared down one of the remaining hallways that still stood in the ruins of Arkadia. 

“I’ll go with her,” Roan said, eyes never leaving the girl. He seemed almost as uncomfortable here as Clarke was. 

“I won’t be long,” the blonde called to his retreating back and returned to inspecting the rubble. 

She held hope that there may be something useful here, but the whole place gave her an eerie feeling. It was strange seeing the destruction around her. She’d never felt at home in Arkadia, not like many others, but it had been familiar, a piece of what had once been. The mass of twisted metal felt like proof of how terrible life had been here for many. Even for herself. 

For the first time she wondered what happened to the Skybox. If it had landed somewhere, destroyed on impact, the confines of her cell smashed to pieces. The legacy she’d drawn over and over again on the blank walls only to wash them clean and start again. Is that what she was doing now? Washing herself clean and creating herself again? As she had when she shed the skin of the Alpha station princess and drenched her hands in the crimson blood of Wanheda. Again when she turned the blood in her own veins from red to black and assumed that was enough to get others to kneel at her feet. Now what was she to become? 

“Clarke?” Madi called out, shocking the blonde from her desolate musings. “Miya!”

She hurried in the direction that Roan and Madi had set off, trying to remember what had been down this particular hallway but lacked the memories. She hadn’t spent enough time here. A stranger among her own people. Never finding a place to fit so she ran away again and again. But where could she run to now?

“What is it?” Clarke asked as she ducked under a collapsed doorway and into the small room where Madi was. Roan was standing at a long table, examining something they’d found.

“I don’t know,” he responded for the both of them, indicating a large box. “We found this.”

“Oh,” Clarke said as she looked inside. There were a couple of tablets and flashlights, manuals and a couple of walkie talkies with charge stations. Not that she knew what she could do about charging the batteries. But she may be able to figure something out. If the tablets were from the school it would have a lot of interesting information. 

“This is great,” Clarke smiled. “We’ll take this with us.”

“Find anything else?” Roan asked, glancing over at her. Clarke shook her head as he lifted the box off the table while she scanned the remainder of the room. There were wires and bits of metal, but nothing that looked immediately useful. It may mean the tablets were useless, but a large hole had been blown through one wall so they may get lucky. 

“Taim na bants,” (lets go) Clarke said, looking down to Madi. “Ogud?”

“Sha,” Madi nodded, looking around nervously. 

“She doesn’t like it here,” Roan interjected, putting a hand on Madi’s shoulder before picking the box back up. 

“That makes two of us,” Clarke admitted as she led the way out of what remained of Arkadia. “Osir na soujon hou.” (we’ll go home)

“Close enough,” Roan rumbled, indicating that her grammar hadn’t been perfect. “But you are improving.”

“Thanks ever so,” Clarke huffed as she opened the back of the Rover, pushing back one of the piles of furs so he could put the box down. “Think we’ll make it before dark?”

“Maybe,” he said, glancing at the sky. “We should try.”

*~*~*

“We’re back from Polis. We got everything we needed and more. 

Roan took us to where they kept the books in Polis before. A library of sorts. They had more than I thought. But it was considered to be only for a few. Lexa knew about it. But - well, apparently she didn’t trust us enough. Anyway, Roan managed to make a hole large enough for us to climb down into the staircase that led inside. One part of the room had collapsed, but there were shelves of books. History, literature, agriculture, you name it. It was amazing. We took a couple of boxes worth of what we thought would be useful. We’ll go back for more the next time we do a supply run. You guys will love it. When you come down, we’ll just sit and read for a week. It’ll be… well. You know. 

The extra furs we got will be good if it gets colder. Our huts don’t have much in the way of fireplaces so I’m going to put Madi in bed with me. According to Roan and Madi that seemed to be how they kept warm during the winter here before. The only building with a large enough hearth to last the night is the longhouse and we still have a lot to do in there. A lot to sort through. Madi is very reluctant to go inside so we’ll stay where we are. Make do. 

I don’t blame her. It’s frustrating in a way, but that was where most of the villagers were. We’ve scrubbed the floors, had to destroy most of the furniture in there because it was - you can imagine. So yeah, I don’t blame her. I really don’t. 

We’re not sure how long the winter will last or how cold it will get. But it’s cold.” 

*~*~*

Clarke didn’t know what had woken her that morning, but she shivered in the cool air as she buried her face under her furs. She was forever thankful for their trip to Polis because there was no chance of being as comfortable as she was now without all the extra luxuries they’d procured. 

“Clarke?” Roan called out quietly, making her frown as she yawned. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked, bundling a fur around her shoulders as she reluctantly climbed out of bed to shuffle over to the door after making sure Madi still slept soundly. The sky was just lightening and she wondered what could have caused him to seek her out so early. 

She opened the door to find the world covered in a layer of soft white snow, flakes cascading down behind Roan’s dark head and she gasped in awed delight. A smile stretched over her lips and made her forget all about the cold as she blinked up into the soft morning light. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to miss this,” Roan rumbled quietly, a soft look in his eyes when she looked over at him. 

“I thought you didn’t like snow?” Clarke arched an eyebrow at him as she reached out a hand to catch one of the fluffy flakes unable to keep a wide smile off her lips. The cold seemed milder now but still stung her cheeks and nose and as handsome of a picture as Roan made first thing in the morning, the pull of the beautiful white world around her was too much. 

“It has its charms,” he responded to her surprise, halting her steps further into the open. His eyes had taken on a particular shade of blue she’d only seen reflected once before, on a night she’d almost forced herself to forget so she could maintain her distance. 

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, eyes still on Roan’s, unsure of what she was referring to herself. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” his voice was deep and rasping, sending shivers racing down her spine that couldn’t be blamed on the cold. 

Clarke forced her eyes away from him and onto the world around her instead. It hadn’t snowed much, but there was a shallow layer spread over the ground and clinging to the thin branches of the surrounding trees. She took a few steps further forward, stooping to scoop up a handful of snow and allowing the moment to fill her with awe. The snow was cold enough to sting her palms as it quickly melted and Clarke closed her eyes so she could absorb every nuance of the moment. The crisp, fresh smell to the air, the incredible dampening of sound, the way her breath stung a little all the way down into her lungs. The solid presence at her side, his eyes a warm weight on her back. 

“It will snow all day,” Roan said and she blinked slowly as she opened her eyes. “Madi will enjoy this too.”

“Then why did you wake me up so early?” Clarke asked, smiling at him to make the question curious rather than accusatory. He considered her for a long moment, flakes falling and settling in his dark hair. 

“Because I woke early,” he finally said. “Saw the snow and remembered it was something you'd dreamed of seeing. I doubted you’d want to wait.” He looked away from her and out at the village. “There is something special about the first fall of snow. I wanted to share it with you.”

Clarke didn’t think as she reached out and took his hand, her smile stretched wide across her face. She stepped a little closer, enough for her furs to brush against his long cloak. She squeezed her fingers around his, turning her face up to the sky and letting out a long happy breath. 

*~*~*

“Day 146. It’s snowing! 

I’ve always dreamed of this and I can’t get enough. Tell Raven that it does sound completely different now. Like all the noise around us has been dampened. Kind of like the sensory deprivation chamber on the Ark but not as severe. I know you’ve seen it, but I just didn’t understand. It’s incredible. 

Madi is loving it. She’s even managed to rope Roan into making little lanterns. She searched huts for candle stumps and can’t wait for it to get dark so she can light them all. I just hope it all stays. It may melt. The air feels a bit warmer again, but maybe I’m just getting used to it. 

I’m sorry, I just can’t help myself. I’m sure you’re all rolling your eyes at me, probably hating me right now. But when you come down I’ll teach you how to make snow lanterns. We’ll fill the village paths with them and light them all. Take the time to celebrate. Make the most of every moment. You’ll see. 

I miss you. All of you.”

*~*~*

The lungful of air stung his nose and chest as he looked out over the water. It made some of the weight fall off his shoulders. The air was familiar and warmed him in a way he hadn’t expected. The sound of the water rushing over the rocks soothed him, cheeks tightening a little with his smile. 

He’d left Madi and Clarke back in the village, disappearing for a little time alone with his thoughts. It was strange this longing for a home he’d never truly enjoyed, but with the sting of winter on his cheeks, he wished he was in Azgeda. He didn’t wish for the duties or the duality, constantly watching his back and never being able to trust the people around him. With very few exceptions. 

Roan sighed, allowing himself to finally think about his family. His eyes tracked the flight of a bird over the treeline, Aeir’s face swimming in his memories. He hadn’t seen her in years. Not since Nia banished him. She’d finally listened to him and stayed away from the capitol, from Nia. From him. But he regretted that she’d not made it back in time to see him after he took over. She was a light in his childhood. Fierce and loyal with a strong sense of herself and of her position. So unlike who she should have been. It was why Nia sent her to the northern borders rather than shame her. 

He wondered if Miki had made it into the bunker. It would be just like him to find a way, but deep down Roan could admit he hoped he hadn’t. The sadism and narcissism may have passed by Aeir, but Miki made up for it all. Roan doubted his youngest brother would have done anything for anyone that didn’t benefit himself. To the point that he would sacrifice Azgeda. It was the only reason Nia hadn’t named the youngest son as her heir. Nia had known what would have happened. 

Phoenix was another matter. Roan rubbed his forehead, turning to make his way back to the village as the wind started to pick up again. He hoped Nix was safe. He still had some foolish notion that he would  _ know _ if he wasn’t. Come what may, Nix was the only person in Azgeda who he never had reason to doubt. The only one of his siblings that had always stood by his side in everything. 

He heard Madi’s happy laughter before he turned the corner and couldn’t keep his smile down at the scene. 

“Hod up!” (stop) Clarke laughed, ducking behind one of the huts as an explosion of snow showered her in white flurries. They had apparently given up making a snow sculpture, judging by the small piles of snow and decided to engage in battle. Memories from too long ago flickered behind his eyes, Nix’s laugh echoing along with Aeir’s giggles. The thrill of doing something they shouldn’t. There had been joy in his life once. 

“Nowe!” (never) Madi called back, pelting the hut with more loose snow. 

Madi was the first to spot him, her smile widening as she motioned him closer. He eyed the pile of snow in her hands a little suspiciously, but approached quietly. Clarke had disappeared behind the hut, presumably to gather more snow. 

“Ai gaf sisen in,”(I need help) she whispered, looking to where Clarke was hiding. “Beja, Roun?” (please)

“Sha, strikon,” he rumbled, moving to her side. He packed a few snowballs for the girl, keeping an ear out for any movement. He knew Clarke enjoyed the element of surprise and suspected she was trying to creep up on them from behind. He doubted his joining in had gone unnoticed by the Skaigeda. 

“Der,” (There) Roan whispered, pointing out a shadow moving between the huts. “Jomp up!” (Attack!)

Madi giggled with joy as she ran towards Clarke, arms loaded with snowballs, all chance of a surprise attack gone. But it was the first time he’d heard her laugh so freely and Roan was captivated by it. Clarke had startled at the noise as well, her eyes seeking his before she was pelted with snow. He knew that no matter how wet and miserable they’d be once the snow cooled their bones, they’d be playing out here until the little girl had exhausted herself. 

Maybe there was room for joy somewhere still. In these moments between. Maybe these moments were the ones he should strive to keep. Hoard them close and hide them deep in his heart to keep it warm when he returned to his own hut at night, left alone with too many thoughts to sleep peacefully. 

“Go’m dan!” (attack!) Clarke’s voice was the only warning he had before he felt the familiar prickling sting of snow down the back of his neck. 

Roan spun on his heels, glaring over at where Madi and Clarke were sprinting off down past the bathing hut, giggling wildly as they went. He shook his head before starting his pursuit. This meant war. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who keeps reading this and telling me what you're enjoying. I love hearing your opinions and predictions. I wish I had time to respond to you all, and I will try once I have an ounce of free time. That said, sorry this chapter was supposed to be up yesterday but ugh. Lead up to Christmas is just too much. Add in a sick kid and it's just more of a joy. 
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my beta [B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/profile).

Winter had finally broken, bringing with it milder days than the snow drenched ones of the months before. Even Clarke had gotten tired of the cold and though Roan had wished that she’d see some things the way he did, he enjoyed her optimism and was a little saddened when she huffed at another day of steady snowfall. He could only hope her innocent enjoyment of it would return the following winter again. At least for a time. 

“I found the practice swords,” Madi said, coming up behind him. “Are you really going to spar with me today?”

“I am,” he said, his lips softening into a smile for the enthusiasm sparkling in the young girl’s eyes. “But you won’t have enough skill to do much more than follow the movement orders you’ve been practicing.”

“One day I will beat you,” she threatened smartly and though it amused him he let his mask fall into place, waiting until her giggles disappeared. 

“Do not go into a battle thinking you will win,” he said, raising the wooden sword into an easy sparring position. “You will be the one to die if you do.”

“But sometimes you’ll know you’ll win,” Madi said, already smarter than she should be. “What about then? If the other person wasn’t a warrior.”

“Even someone who is not trained can best you,” he said nodding to encourage her to start her movements. “There are many who can take you by surprise.”

“If you fought Clarke you would win,” Madi said confidently, frowning when he knocked the sword from her hands when her concentration wavered. 

“Again, little nightblood,” he said. “You are too confident.”

“I’m practicing,” she insisted to his displeasure. 

“You are  _ training _ ,” he insisted, watching her footwork and kicking out her back leg when she stepped wrong. She glared up at him a moment later but he left her to make her own way to her feet. “Confidence breeds complacency. Confidence will get you killed.”

Madi huffed but quieted down, moving through her steps more carefully and paying closer attention to the way Roan’s body moved. She would soon learn that observation was the key to besting an opponent. Maybe it was time to offer her something more to think about.

“When I first met Clarke I was too confident,” he admitted, Madi’s blue eyes locking on his. “If her own confidence hadn’t taken over she would have killed me.”

“What?” Madi looked stunned at the information, disbelieving. 

“Even I have made foolish mistakes because I was arrogant,” he conceded. “Now concentrate for the remainder of your lesson and I will tell you the story of how Wanheda almost killed the banished prince of Azgeda.”

*~*~*

“Madi asked me why I didn’t kill you,” Clarke said, making him huff as he stirred the vegetable stew over the fire. “And if she should be taking combat lessons from me.”

“And what did you tell the little troublemaker?” he asked, glancing over at the blonde in time to catch the softening of her lips into a genuine smile. The smile he liked best on her. “Did you offer to take my place?”

“With all my years of hand-to-hand training?” She shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “Of course I did. We didn’t want her to be able to actually face off against any opponents right? Just do her best and take a shot in the dark?”

“You have more skill than luck,” he said, not used to her being so dismissive of her own strengths. She was not arrogant when recalling her talents, but she knew what her capabilities were and she never backed down from a fight. 

“I have enough knowledge to get me by,” she shrugged, leaning over the pot and inhaling deeply. “I didn’t even get into what happened with her. It didn’t sound like you gave her a lot of details. This smells incredible.”

“Just enough to make her curious. You knew how to force my hand at the riverbed,” he continued, brushing past her attempt at changing the topic of conversation. “If you’d been more patient and less afraid you could have bested me.”

“Maybe,” she looked up at him doubtfully. “But that would mean that you really would have stopped fighting me off if I hadn’t fallen for your trick. I was exhausted by then, you knew it and so did I.”

“Men are generally stronger,” he said. “And tend to last longer in a fight.”

“Yes, men have higher muscle density and more testosterone,” she said and he agreed even if he only understood the first part of her explanation. “I was relying on the element of surprise. That I can teach Madi. And how to shoot.”

“Your attempt was a good one,” Roan wanted to acknowledge that he was impressed by her continued attempts at evading him. She was tenacious and never gave up fighting for what she believed in. That was something he wanted her to show the child so Madi would one day be as strong as the blonde beside him. 

“Maybe,” she shrugged, taking a spoonful of stew and blowing on it to cool it down. His eyes dipped down to the perfect circle of her lips, distracted momentarily when she closed her eyes around the utensil, smiling and closing her eyes when she tasted the simple meal. “It’s as good as it smells. Seriously, how did you learn to make things like this?”

“My brother and I grew fast,” he frowned, looking away and forcing his thoughts into safer territory. “I used to hassle my mother’s cook for extra helpings between meals because we were so hungry. She told me she’d give me the ingredients, but I’d have to make it myself thinking I’d be too proud to learn. I watched her for a week before attempting something.”

“And you just have an incredible memory and knew exactly what to do?” Her eyebrow was raised skeptically when he looked over at her, a small smile quirking her lips. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. He should never have started a story of his past. These were memories better left and dangerous to reexamine. 

“No,” he admitted, hoping to end the conversation before she asked too much. “It was terrible. But I kept coming to the kitchen and watching what the cook did. Asked questions when she let me. Eventually I learned.”

“And ate well because of it?” Clarke bumped her shoulder against his playfully. 

“Ate better than I had before,” he said, looking around for Madi. He’d use the excuse of her lessons to move on from this particular conversation. “I am teaching her about Trikru customs today, if you wish to learn.”

“You’d teach me too?” Clarke looked surprised at the offer. 

“I was told to take every opportunity to learn that I could,” he explained, pulling the pot further off the fire to simmer while he taught Madi. “I will always offer you the same choice.” 

The fact that he hadn’t before, or that she’d never asked, wasn’t worth mentioning. The simple fact of the matter was that Clarke may as well learn at the same time as Madi. There were many pieces of knowledge that would be of great benefit when the clans reunited on the surface. Maybe she could understand the intricacies of what leading the Coalition entailed a little better. It would help to have her on his side if the time came and he was asked to lead again. 

*~*~*

  
  


Clarke looked to Roan, missing the heavy black cloak from the colder winter months. Her eyes and fingers concentrated on her task, allowing her mind to wander back to the first time she’d seen him dressed once more as the king of Azgeda. It had been enough to freeze the breath in her lungs when he came out into the softly falling snow, the austere expression he’d worn so often as king missing from his sharp features. 

Clarke had started working on the new cloak for him shortly after their return from Polis, knowing she would need as much time as possible to complete the garment. She’d never sewed more than patches onto clothing before, but she knew how to use her hands and given enough time, had known she would be able to figure it out. She had another cloak laid out beside the black fur and painstakingly recreated the heavy winter garment. Madi had been close to bursting with excitement when she finished, wanting to give it to Roan immediately and gushing to Clarke about how beautiful it was. 

When she had given it to Roan, the dread and discomfort battling for supremacy and making her fingers shake just a little, he’d frowned, letting his face fall blank as his eyes studied her work. 

“You made this for me?” he asked, his voice soft and rasping in a way that sent shivers up her spine. 

There were a thousand explanations and excuses on her tongue as she looked up to catch his eyes. She wanted to thank him for everything he’d done since they woke up here. For giving her another chance. For teaching her what she needed to know. It was a gift because she wanted to show him that his presence here and now meant something. Was worth all of the effort she had put into saving him and slowly repairing their relationship. But in the end, her words escaped her. 

“Yes,” she’d whispered with a smile, amazed to see his own lips stretch into a small smile too. 

“Thank you, Clarke,” he’d said simply. He’d worn it every day since. Until the weather warmed as it had now and he slowly took the layers off, welcoming the spring as the world around them did. 

“I think I’ve made a mistake,” Madi’s voice broke into her thoughts, her Gonasleng halting but sure. 

“Let me look,” Clarke replied, moving her eyes off Roan who was giving her a bit of an odd look. It occurred to her then she must have been staring, lost in memories and hoped the flush she felt in her cheeks didn’t translate to her skin too obviously. 

“Em laik tofon,” (it’s a difficult thing) Madi muttered as Clarke moved her yarn off the needle, pulling the work she’d done apart until she’d erased the mistake. 

“You just have to get the rhythm,” Clarke smiled as she moved her hands to show her again. “Bilaik spin raun.” (like dancing) Her added comment made the girl smile and shake her head. 

“Giv ai op,” (give it to me) Madi held her hands out to take her work back, looking at Clarke a little slyly before adding. “At least I know how to dance.”

Clarke laughed at Madi, knowing that it would take some time before the young girl would let her live down her one attempt at copying some steps out of her Louwoda Kliron dance. Clarke had some experience with dance, and wasn’t horrible, but the quick pattern and Roan’s amused gaze had been enough to make her stumble through at best. 

“I’ll show you one day, little nightblood,” Clarke laughed, her eyes back on her own work. 

She’d set Madi to learn the basics of knitting by making a scarf, remembering the hours she’d spent at her grandmother’s side set the same task. Her stitches had started mismatched and uneven, but by the third scarf she’d been able to make something good enough to put into the communal clothing pool. Clarke was working on a pair of socks, hoping to get a large stash of them before the next winter. They were all relieved that Polis had given them sturdy winter boots but even they had left Clarke’s toes numb if she spent too long out in the large drifts of snow. 

“Who taught you this?” Roan asked as he joined Clarke and Madi at the table where the blonde had laid out the small stash of wool she’d taken from the market at Polis. She knew that she’d be taking significantly more with her the next time they went, not wanting to take up space with what she’d initially considered a luxury during their first trip. It was definitely part of their next winter preparations. 

“My grandmother,” she answered, glancing up at him. “Ai komfoni.”

“I know the word,” Roan said, making Clarke wonder what had caused the look of temporary confusion. 

“Abby’s mother was still alive when I was young,” she expanded on her explanation, keeping her eyes fixed on her work. “It was an old skill and we had to break down and reuse fibres from clothing too worn to use any longer, but it helped produce more for people to wear.”

“I never considered where you’d produce clothing,” Roan said. Clarke wasn’t entirely sure if he was actually asking, but decided to give a short answer. 

“There was a machine that made fibres to make clothing with,” she explained. “But it was difficult and took a long time. We made use of everything. Reused and remade as much as we could until it was impossible to remake it again.”

Roan hummed as he considered the information, his mind working as he processed what she’d told him. Clarke had always assumed that Grounders made a lot of use out of found material, she’d only seen looms once in Polis, but she’d hardly had time in the past for exploring. There was a lot of leather which was durable and long-wearing, but she’d seen so much more variety inside that warehouse. Going back to Polis in the future would be more of an adventure than the last one. 

“What is fibers?” Madi asked, looking at Clarke. “I do not understand.”

“This is a type of fibre,” Clarke said, holding up the long tail of her wool. “A small part that makes a whole. Or a hair. Or this.” Clarke held up one of the woven baskets, pointing to the small fibres of the husks that had been used to weave it. Madi nodded and returned to her work, apparently satisfied enough with the answer. 

*~*~*~

Roan slowed his steps as he closed in on the village, two large fish hanging off his line, narrowing his eyes and cocking his head. He made an effort to move silently, his steps slow and sure as he neared the huts. He stopped when he confirmed just what he was hearing. 

Clarke was singing.

‘I know you haven't made your mind up yet

But I will never do you wrong

I've known it from the moment that we met

No doubt in my mind where you belong’

He felt a shiver move down his spine as he listened to the beautifully haunted tone she sung with, his skin prickling in awareness even as his mind turned over the words. He’d thought before that he’d heard something when she didn’t know he was close enough to overhear. Usually it was so quiet, hardly loud enough above a murmur, but it had never been like this. She was obviously singing with her whole heart, unafraid or uncaring of being overheard. Either that or she was singing for Madi, but as he listened to the words she sung he found it an odd choice. 

‘I could make you happy make your dreams come true’

‘There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do’

‘Go to the ends of the earth for you’

‘To make you feel my love-’ 

She carried the last few words on into the quiet of the afternoon, Roan’s heart beating hard in his chest. It was beautiful.  _ She _ was beautiful. 

“Hasta hodness,” (it’s about love) Clarke said, making him realise that she had been singing for Madi. 

Madi’s grasp of Gonasleng was improving rapidly, but he doubted she would have understood much of what Clarke had sung about. He, on the other hand, did and wondered at her choice once more. The way she’d sung it was so personal, so full of emotion, more than he was used to seeing in her. Hearing it affected him deeply, physically and more. 

“Em ste meizen,” (It’s beautiful) Madi’s voice was soft and awed. “Won mou?” (one more)

Clarke laughed brightly in response and Roan knew that if he wanted to make himself known this would be the time. If she wanted him to hear her sing, she’d have the option to do so. If it was something she wanted to keep between herself and the girl, she’d have time enough to stop. 

“Gontaim,” (later) Clarke said as he made his steps heavier, his disappointment heavy at her response. “Taim don kom up granen.” (time to work)

The blonde looked up at him when she heard him, no real trace of surprise in her eyes. The smile she gave him in greeting almost took the edge off his irritation at feeling like he was missing something. 

“Hello, Roan,” Madi said in Gonasleng when she noticed the king, diverting his attention. “You have fish.”

“Yes,” he replied, amused by her stubborn need to speak like Clarke and he did. It wouldn’t be long before she understood everything they said. Like having a younger child who was only just learning to speak. “Will you help me clean them?”

Madi frowned as she worked through his phrasing, glancing to Clarke but refusing to ask for help. It took a moment but he was happy to wait, raising the fish as his eyes drifted to the work bench where they generally gutted and cleaned their dinner. Madi’s blue eyes were bright when he looked back at her, lips stretched wide in a grin as she nodded enthusiastically. 

“She’s going to be fluent soon,” Clarke said, looking a little less confident than normal and Roan took a moment to study her. Maybe she suspected that he’d heard more than she thought. He kept his eyes soft as he nodded, making her grin a little more genuine. 

*~*~*

“Day 217.

It’s starting to warm up a little more now. The flowers are blooming. Bees are busy but I haven’t spotted any hives. I don’t know if you ever tried the honey cakes they had in Polis, but I swear I still dream about them. We have flour so all I need is honey. And whatever else I’d need. Imagine me trying that! Maybe they have a recipe book somewhere.

Not that cake is the priority now. We’re hoping to plant towards the end of spring. Some vegetables and some grain. Monty, we could use some help! 

I joke about that, but sometimes - I trust Roan. He knows what he’s doing. Like  _ really _ knows. But I - I worry. I guess. And I miss you all. Sorry, something about the melting snow makes me sentimental. You don’t want to listen to me mope. I’ve got to go anyways. I’ve been out collecting herbs for our medical supplies. 

Oh! And I managed to get one of the tablets working! It’s something. I can’t wait to show Madi some of the old video files. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

*~*~*

“Day two hundred thirty-what? 

Fuck it, I’m exhausted. 233!

Sorry we’ve been weeding the main field since after breakfast and I’m not even sure I’ll stay awake through dinner. It’s like our first days on the ground. I feel drained and heavy. I’m going to be sore tomorrow. But one field is done then all we plan to do this planting season is the vegetable fields. We’re making sure we have enough seed to try again. A couple of times if we need to.

We’re lucky there was seed to begin with but we’re going to have to set up something more sustainable. We - sorry - told you I was exhausted. I know I said I’d keep you updated but maybe tomorrow is better? When I don’t feel like I’m made of gelatin.”


	12. Chapter 12

Roan pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, feeling the persistent dull ache behind his eyes building into sharp pain. His body was exhausted and his throat sore but he’d pushed through this morning to still go check the snares. A painful cough ripped through his chest as he walked over to Clarke at the table.

“You’re sick,” she said with a frown and he glared at her.

“I am aware,” he said, his voice rough and painful.

“Let me examine you,” she said, walking up to him immediately, eyes assessing. He didn’t need to be looked at, it was just a simple illness but she looked determined so he sighed and nodded, following her to the table and sitting where she indicated.

“Your lymph nodes are swollen,” she said, fingers pressing softly into his throat. “You need to rest today.”

“We have to prepare the field,” he argued, knowing their ability to plant would be limited. “Unless you plan on pulling the tiller I need to get at least half of it done today. Preferably all of it.”

“I sincerely doubt we only have a two day planting window, Roan,” she chided as he coughed again. “If you rest today you’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Or I till the field today so you and Madi can plant tomorrow,” he countered. She frowned at him and he held up his hand before she could argue. “If I get worse I may not have energy to do it for longer.”

“But you could be sick longer,” she argued, pressing her fingers against the artery in his throat. 

“I’m tilling the field, Clarke,” he said firmly. “I’ve been sick before.”

“Fine,” she said after a moment. “But I’m helping you and you stop if you get worse.”

He raised his eyebrows at her but she crossed her arms. He noticed Madi watching them from over by the fire but refused to give in. The field needed planting or they would have to keep foraging. Foraging would make winter preparations much more difficult. They had been lucky to have enough stores to get them through if they were careful but they needed to plan. They needed sustainable food sources. 

“If you get a fever,” she said. “Or worse, if you collapse out there I may not be able to get you back here.”

“Fine,” he said, looking to Madi. “Let’s go.”

“Roan,” she started, putting a hand on his arm but he gave her a resolute look. “Just- don’t overdo it.”

He softened a little, recognising her concern for him. He nodded before they walked over to the small field they had cleared of weeds the week before. With Clarke’s help he managed to get the field tilled by the end of the afternoon, sweat running down his back and down his chest from the exertion. He was physically exhausted, his back aching from the labour and the coughing fits that had made him pull up short on more than one occasion. He had the sense he’d made the right choice, feeling the weakness in his limbs setting in.

“You’re finished,” Clarke said, coming up beside him, scanning his face. “Time to rest.”

“I’m fine,” he said, leaning against the till for a moment, drawing in as much breath as he could.

“You’re not,” Clarke said firmly, pressing her palms against his cheeks. “You have a fever. You’re going to bed.”

“I’d like to wash first,” he grumbled as he glanced over to where Madi was watching him with concern. Maybe he looked worse than he thought.

“I’ll fill a tub for you,” Clarke insisted, taking hold of his arm and pulling him in the direction of home. “Madi, hon in woda, nau, beja.” (Madi, go get water now, please)

“Your grammar still needs work,” he said, feeling a little lightheaded. Madi had been quick to follow Clarke’s request, disappearing off at a run.

“So does your stubborn need to do more than you should,” Clarke grumbled, stepping closer to him and slinging his arm over her shoulders.

“Clarke-“ he protested but she wrapped her other arm around his waist and held him firmly. “I’m fine.”

“You’re so far from  _ fine _ , haihefa,” she bit out, knowing his title irked him here.

He glared at her but found himself leaning on her more and more the closer they got, his vision getting a little fuzzy at the edges. She met his glare placidly and he was forced to concentrate on his steps before he really embarrassed himself and stumbled. When they reached the fire pit Madi had already set a pot of water to boil over the flames. He sat down a lot harder than he’d intended on the ground near where she was dragging out the tub, watching the girls prepare a bath for him.

“You don’t have to,” he argued as Clarke kneeled beside him, pressing one of her medical instruments against his bare chest. The metal was cold and biting, making him inhale sharply as she put the other end in her ears. He couldn’t quite remember what she’d called it but she used it to listen to his breathing and his heart.

“I am a healer,” she said, pressing her palm against his forehead, uncaring of the sweat that still beaded his brow. “I know more about this than you do, whether you admit it or not.”

“I know,” he said quietly, watching her stiffen in surprise and look at him. He wasn’t about to argue with her about this, he knew she had a rather impressive amount of knowledge about healing for someone so young and he trusted her ability in the area.

“I’m going to keep the water cool,” Clarke said. “You’re already spiking a high fever so it will cool you down. Then you’re going to bed.”

“Sha, fisa,” he said, throat sore. She helped him stand up, waiting while the world spun a little under his feet and he was forced to admit to himself that maybe the field should have waited a couple of days. He held her eyes as a point of focus until he felt strong enough to straighten and make his way to the tub.

“I’ll go get you a change of clothes,” she said, looking over to Madi. “Can you make some tea?”

“Sha,” Madi replied, already more fluent in Gonasleng than Clarke was in Trigedasleng. They needed to make more of an effort to get the blonde comfortable speaking their language.

Roan stripped out of his dirty boots and pants before stepping into the tub and shivering at the temperature. It was more than cool, his skin reacting immediately as he kneeled down to submerge himself to his waist in the water to wash. He did so as efficiently as possible, grabbing the towel Clarke held out to him after rinsing his hair and standing. If he’d felt better than he did he would have appreciated her glance at his torso but as it was he just needed to lie down.

“Come on,” she said softly, helping him find his footing again when he stumbled, her voice more concerned than he’d expected. “Let’s get you inside.”

“Thought you brought clothes,” he said, wrapping the towel around his waist.

“Yeah, we’re going to get you inside first,” she said, wrapping an arm around him again. “Madi, sis osir au tiya.” (please help us inside).

“Muchof,” Roan said as Madi held the door to his hut open for them and Clarke got him seated on the edge of the pallet that made up his bed.

“Get dressed,” Clarke instructed gently, handing him a soft pair of pants that he slipped on immediately. “Now sleep.”

“What about the tea?” he asked, his throat feeling raw. “Water?”

“Here,” she said, handing him his water skin. “I’ll come in with tea in a couple of hours. Try and sleep some first.”

“I’m not dying,” he huffed, annoyed at the fuss she was making over him.

“You’d be surprised how often people die from simple illness,” she said, glancing behind herself. “It’s not worth the risk.”

“Sure you’d manage,” he said as he closed his eyes, the pain in his head screaming at him to do as she said.

“Not sure I want to try,” she whispered before he succumbed to the darkness that was pulling him under.

*~*~*

Clarke grabbed the cup of tea she’d prepared for Madi and headed back inside her hut. It had taken Roan two days to recover from whatever illness he’d contracted and by the time his fever had broken, Madi was already coughing so Clarke had been quick to send her to bed. She had gotten sick more quickly than Roan had, coughing heavily and spiking a high fever within hours of its onset. The king had looked devastated when Clarke told him Madi was now sick and had pulled himself out of bed to sit at her bedside.

“Here,” Clarke said quietly, handing the cup to Roan who helped Madi sit.

He held her close as she drank the tea, making Clarke smile softly at the picture. She had suspected that Roan cared deeply for his people and his friends, she’d seen it in his trust of her, but to see him caring for Madi confirmed it. He doted on the girl, always looking out for her and doing everything he could to make her feel a part of the world they inhabited. Even if the only world they could offer the girl was the two of them and the small village.

“Sore,” Madi whispered in reply to something Roan had asked her and Clarke kneeled beside the bed.

“Swela ou melon?” (throat or head) Clarke asked, taking her small hand in her own.

“Melon,” she replied, closing her eyes.

Clarke looked up to Roan with a soft frown. He laid Madi back down on the bed, making sure she was comfortable before shifting out of the way. Clarke checked her forehead, relieved that she wasn’t running a temperature any longer. The headache was probably her body letting go of all the tension of the illness.

“It’s alright, Madi,” Clarke soothed the child, running her hand over her hair. “You’ll feel better in the morning I promise.”

“Really?” Madi asked quietly before another bout of coughing tore through her and Clarke bit her lip.

“Ai swega yu klin,” (I promise) she whispered, pressing a kiss to her brow, running her fingers over her cheek. “Rid yu op bida riden.” (get some sleep)

“Kei,” she whispered, closing her eyes again. Clarke sat back, holding her hand until her breathing had evened out into the long, slow rhythm of sleep. She looked over at Roan who rose and followed him.

“Go sit down,” Roan said quietly once they were outside. “I’ll go get you something to eat.”

“I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head, wanting to make some more medicinal tea to have on hand overnight in case Madi’s fever returned.

“Clarke, sit,” he said firmly, pointing to the table. “You haven’t taken a break for four days.”

“I’m fine,” she repeated, moving to the table where she had been organising her herbs.

She barely had time to react before he’d come up behind her and bodily lifted her into his arms, carrying her over to the chair he’d indicated before. She struggled a little but he just tightened his hands around her and raised his eyebrows at her attempt.

“Sit,” he said as he put her down gently in the chair. “Don’t move or I’ll tie you to the chair.”

“You don’t have to force me,” she said, glaring at him.

“Apparently, I do,” he said pointedly. “I made stew. Take a break.”

“Fine,” she huffed, watching him move back to the fire where a large pot hung over the flames.

Clarke was tired, her muscles ached and she was a little worried that she was next judging by the pain in her head. But she wasn’t about to let on that she wasn’t feeling well. When Roan shot her a look from over the fire she did her best to ignore the concern she saw in his eyes. She had planted the fields with Madi the first day of Roan’s illness, ensuring that his plan went ahead as he had wanted and she had to admit, it was comforting to know they had some leeway with food if it all worked.

“Here,” Roan said as he set a bowl before her. “Will you get sick?”

“Probably,” she admitted, not bothering to lie to him.

It was better he be prepared. What she wasn’t about to tell him however was that it was likely she could get a lot sicker than either of them had been if she hadn’t been exposed to whatever virus or bacteria had caused this yet. She just had to hope that whatever it was, it was manageable. It was also why she wanted to prepare enough medication, for the eventuality of her own illness.

“I found a beehive,” Roan said, digging into his own food. “Honey will help Madi’s throat.”

“I wish we’d found it earlier,” Clarke said, knowing that there was a lot of medical use for honey and excited at the prospect of having some. “It could have helped you.”

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly, making her grin. “I’ll go collect some honey after dark.”

“What if you get stung?” she asked, not having had much experience with bees yet.

“Then I get stung,” he said, arching an eyebrow at her. “It’s inconvenient, but I will survive.”

“Ever the warrior king?” she asked and he huffed a little. She knew that was Roan’s version of a laugh and smiled a little proudly at him when he looked over at her.

“How long do you expect Madi will be sick?” he asked instead of commenting on what she’d said, but Clarke saw through him.

She’d learned to read him better in the months since Madi joined them and had been amazed to see him slowly opening up around the girl. Roan was always quiet and kept his regal mask in place, but the more time he spent around Clarke and Madi, the more she saw it slip. Small smiles quirking his lips as he trained with the girl or helped Clarke with her Trigedasleng. His eyes had lost their cold, hard edge and often laughed even when he tried to hide it from her. Madi had been able to get a few genuine smiles from him and Clarke had been stunned at the transformation over his face when he truly allowed himself to. She had found herself hoping that she would be lucky enough to tease one out of him soon.

“She should be better tomorrow,” Clarke said, fighting a yawn. “She’s already coughing less and hasn’t had a fever since this morning.”

“Then it’s time for you to rest, too,” Roan said as she finished the stew.

“I just need to make another batch of tea,” Clarke said, holding his eyes. “Just so we have some overnight.”

“Or if you get sick,” he said, seeing through her.

Clarke debated for a moment before she nodded. He looked grim, frowning again, eyes scanning her face as if it held the answers for what was about to happen. She may not get sick at all, she just didn’t know.

“Make the tea,” he instructed, forever the king. “Then you go get some sleep.”

“But-“ she protested, knowing there was still work to be done.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’ll do it.”

“I can help,” she argued but he shook his head.

“You stay with Madi,” he said. “That’s enough help.”

“Roan-“ she tried to argue even as he shook his head again. “Fine.”

Roan eyed her critically but seemed to believe her judging by the nod. She smiled softly at him until his eyes lightened a fraction.

*~*~*

“Clarke?” Roan called out as he stood outside her hut. He hadn’t seen her since last night and it was well after lunch.

Madi had reassured him that she was just sleeping in this morning but he was getting a bad feeling. He had expected to find her outside when they got back from tending to the field and fishing, but the fire was burning low and there wasn’t a sign of her anywhere.

“Clarke?” he called out, pushing the door open and stepping inside. He looked around but didn’t find her. “Clarke?”

“Here,” a raw and broken voice said, barely loud enough for him to hear and his head snapped over to where her bed was. He moved forward immediately scanning her pale face.

“Sick?” he asked and she gave him a look he was confident she’d learned from himself.

“My turn,” she whispered, a violent bout of coughing tearing through her that sounded far worse than Madi’s. “Water.”

He rose and immediately got some for her, wondering why she hadn’t told Madi how sick she was. She had warned him that it may happen, but he hadn’t been prepared to see her sick. She was pale and sweating, eyes a little glazed and cheeks flushed.

“I’ll get you some tea,” he said, feeling her forehead as she’d done to both Madi and himself. Clarke nodded, closing her eyes and turning her face away from him again. He frowned before he went outside once more, setting a pot over the fire to boil water.

“Is she sick?” Madi asked and he nodded gravely. “Can I sit with her?”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I’ll be in soon.”

Madi disappeared into their hut immediately to Roan’s relief. After all the care she had taken of them, she deserved someone by her side. Clarke had been tireless in her duty to them both, sitting through the night with him and then with Madi. He’d tried to take over the second night with the girl, but Clarke had still sat with them both, nodding off with her head near the girl’s on her pallet. He was grateful for her care of them both but now he worried about how much she’d drained her own energy reserves and how she would fare with the illness herself. He shook himself before getting the tea and heading back to Clarke’s side.

“Roan!” Madi cried just as he opened the door and he didn’t think twice before throwing the cup aside and racing to where Clarke was convulsing in the bed.

“Clarke!” he called out, holding her shoulders gently, trying to remember what she’d told him to do if this happened with Madi.

He’d never seen fever fits before and couldn’t stand seeing her eyes roll up in her head as her body shook below his hands. He worried that holding her would hurt her so he removed his hands from her shoulders and rolled her onto her side, a flash of memory encouraging him to. She was clenching her jaw shut, but there wasn’t much he could do about that and could only hope her tongue was out of the way.

“Is she going to die?” Madi asked from beside him just as Clarke stopped convulsing.

“No, Madi,” he answered, pressing his palm to Clarke’s forehead as she moaned. “Clarke is the Wanheda, remember?”

“Okay,” the child said meekly as she took Clarke’s hand in her smaller one, holding it tight.

“And she’s too stubborn to die,” Roan whispered, more to himself than to reassure Madi, praying to whatever gods there were it was true. Clarke had come too far to die from a simple fever.

Nearly two days went by with Roan and Madi sitting next to Clarke as she shivered through her bouts of fever. Clarke was mostly unconscious or speaking nonsense through her hallucinations. She had another seizure just after dinner on the second night, this one shorter but still as frightening for him to watch. They did their best to keep her hydrated, wetting her lips as she’d done the day Madi barely woke, ensuring that she had something.

He knew Madi was just as worried about Clarke as he was so he didn’t bother trying to convince her to abandon her post until the day had darkened into night. When she started to nod off at Clarke’s side he made her move over to her own bed, convincing her she could take over in the morning.

“Go to sleep, strikon,” Roan said as he tucked the blanket around Madi’s shoulders. “I’ll keep watch over Clarke.”

She nodded, blue eyes solemn before she closed them and he pressed a kiss to her forehead before he moved back to where Clarke still lay unconscious in her bed. At least her fever had finally dropped and she hadn’t had another fit since the last one after dinner. He hoped she was through the worst of it. He sat down beside her, taking her hand in his and pressing his lips against the cool skin.

Roan was exhausted. He had slept beside Clarke’s bed every night but it had been restless and he woke often to check on her.

After her illness he realised just how much he needed Clarke in his life. Not just as a joint caretaker for Madi or as company in this empty, desolate world while they waited until the rest could come back. He truly and deeply needed  _ Clarke _ in his life. He had forgiven her long ago and any anger that he’d had was long since gone. He was even willing to work on his own insecurities as long as she woke again. As long as Clarke came back to him he’d dig the Polis tower out himself by hand if she wanted him to. As long as she came back to him.

“Roan?” Clarke’s voice rasped, waking him with a start. He saw the moon light filter in through the window before glancing over to Madi’s bed. She was still asleep so he shifted closer to Clarke’s side.

“Clarke?” he asked, amazed by the blue eyes that blinked slowly at him once he’d raised his head once more. He searched her expression, cupping her cheek gently, hoping for some glimmer of recognition after so many hours of hallucinations.

“Water,” she said softly, hand reaching out to his. Her fingers were cold and weak as they clutched at his own. “Woder beja, Roan.”

“Sha,” he replied immediately as he brought the water skin to her lips allowing her to drink deeply. “I was starting to worry.”

“Payback,” she said after swallowing a large mouthful, making him frown. He wasn’t sure what she meant by the phrase and her eyes sparkled a bit when she realised.

“Like retribution,” she said. “For when it took you a week to wake up.”

He laughed in surprise and it was a soft, halting noise in the otherwise silent room. His reaction made her smile, eyes soft and warm in the low light. She looked beautiful painted blue in the pale moonlight. Roan couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing her forehead softly before pressing his own against hers, a smile still stretching his lips as the relief of having her back made the tension ease from his shoulders.

“Roan?” she whispered, confusion or uncertainty colouring her tone. “What’s wrong?”

“I was really worried you wouldn’t wake,” he admitted, feeling the truth press against the back of his closed eyelids but refusing to admit anything further. He was already too exposed, too vulnerable, even with the moon their only witness. The last time he’d been this vulnerable with her, things hadn’t gone well.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, cupping his cheek, fingers trembling and he realised he was being selfish in his own relief. She needed rest, not to comfort him yet again.

“You need to rest,” he said as he straightened, trying to put his mask back on but it felt more like a lie than it ever had before.

“I’m not tired,” she lied, he saw the strain around her eyes and wondered if maybe he wasn’t the only one who felt vulnerable.

“Yes, you are,” he said, running his fingers through her hair. “I’ll get you some more water and then you sleep again until morning.”

“I’m the healer,” she scolded softly but accepted the water skin again, drinking greedily this time. Her eyelids fluttered a little as she lay back again, her eyes a little duller under the weight of exhaustion. “Will you stay?”

“Of course,” he said, wrapping her hand in his, watching her until her eyes had closed and her breathing had evened into the long, deep rhythm of sleep.

Only when he was sure that she was asleep did he let down his guard, putting his head in his hands as his whole body sagged in relief. He didn’t give voice to the unending thankfulness he felt at having her back. He didn’t give voice to the promises he made her, he made Madi, he made himself, in the silent moments under the moon as he watched her sleep. But he gave voice to the vow he made as he pressed his own scarred palm against hers that he would allow himself to be here entirely, wholly with Clarke and with Madi. He would let go of his own insecurities, of his own fears, and let them in. He would open his heart to Clarke like he had wanted to for a long time. Let her close again. Because not having the chance was a regret he now knew he couldn’t live with.

*~*~*

“Day 268.

We all made it through whatever illness we had. I don’t remember much of when I was sick but apparently it was bad for a while. Madi has barely left my side since I woke up. It must have scared her. And Roan - he’s been more attentive too. He told me I had fever seizures so I understand. They can be pretty scary to watch. 

Madi’s recuperating really well and is running around keeping us busy. The weather is finally warming up. It’s really beautiful. Sometimes I forget that this is the only place on the planet that we know of where things grow. It feels like we’re in this bubble which I suppose we are. No one else seems to have survived or if they did, they haven’t come here. No more nighbloods in the world apart from us. It’s strange to think about. Like thinking about you, up there. 

Is it strange being back in space? I’m not sure I can imagine it. It feels like my life before Dad was someone else’s. Or maybe this is a dream. Maybe I finally went crazy up there. Who knows? But for now I’m going to enjoy it. I know it’s harder for you guys, and I’m sorry for that, if I’d been more sure about the serum I would have - no it wouldn’t have been worth the risk. What if the valley hadn’t been here? Then I wouldn’t be here now.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone who celebrates has had a relaxing and safe holiday season. I blame the crazy season for being so late at getting this up. And a killer migraine, but I'm posting today and then returning to my low lit cave for another day or so. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has reviewed. I keep saying I'm going to reply and I will, one day, but time is not something I have much of and any I have had spare I've used to finish up Part three of this trilogy so I can get it out somewhat on time after I finish posting this. 
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful [beta!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havealittleFaith/profile)

Clarke tried to be as covert as possible as she watched Roan demonstrate a series of moves to Madi. He moved quickly, the sword cutting through the air, his bare arms flexing under the strain. Madi was rapt with attention, copying him exactly when he stepped back to watch her. It was obvious she had talent for this and that Roan was an exceptional teacher. Clarke quickly averted her eyes back to the berries she was sorting when Roan turned. 

Ever since she’d been sick he’d been different. More open than he had been with her before. More like the man who sought her out as she struggled with what it meant to sacrifice a human being for the world to survive. When they’d had one moment where all they had was each other. When he’d believed in her. 

“Your turn,” Roan said, pulling her from her thoughts and making her look up abruptly. 

“My turn?” She frowned at him. “Until I make more ammunition we can’t have target practice.”

“Your turn with a sword,” he expanded firmly. “You are useless.”

“Thank you so much,” she said, returning to her berry sorting. “Luckily, I’m very good at hitting targets.”

“Come on, Wanheda,” he drawled, making her hated title drag almost mockingly. “Time to show our little natbleeda what you can do.”

“Or can’t, considering you just called me useless,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Then come learn,” he said and she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“What if I’m busy,” she asked even as she stood to follow him, the light in his eyes showing his amusement. “I have a lot of berries to preserve before winter.”

“And we can all sort them after you disarm me,” Roan challenged as she stepped into the small area set up for training by the king. She shook her head knowing she had no chance of doing so, not even if she had a gun as he’d already demonstrated. 

He tossed her one of the wooden swords and she caught it with only a small fumble to her delight. He pressed his lips together before cocking an eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes plainly before rolling her shoulders, glancing at Madi who was watching them happily.

“This was your idea wasn’t it?” she asked, making the girl shake her head a little too quickly. “He is the warrior, not me. I’m happy enough to admit it.”

“You still need to learn, Clarke,” Roan said. 

Clarke turned her attention back to the king and raised her sword. She had no idea what he wanted to prove but figured there was no harm in obliging him. He shook his head and moved to fix her stance and hold immediately before returning to his own position.

“Miya, Wanheda,” he teased, a predatory gleam in his eyes. 

It was enough to throw her off a little, curious at the slightly playful edge he had this afternoon. Clarke really had no idea what she was doing with a sword and could at best make contact with his wooden blade before he knocked it from her hands. She didn’t bother hiding her sigh when she picked the sword back up only to repeat the same process a handful of times.

“Too scared to apply yourself?” he asked when he’d knocked the sword out of her hands once again.

“I have had zero training, Roan,” she groused. “At least with a gun I can avoid close combat.”

“Not how life works,” he pointed out. “As you know.”

“And I generally find a way if I need to,” she countered. “As you know.”

“If you’d had training you would have known you hadn’t drowned me,” he said, moving to pick her sword from the ground when she didn’t. 

“I was a bit busy,” she murmured as he came closer, looking too relaxed to be fair. “And I thought you said I was over-confident.”

“You were,” his eyes flickered over her, taking in more than she wanted to reveal, Clarke knew. The charge that had always flowed between them was back and stronger than before. She’d had a taste of what could be between them but now it was hard to remember. Especially faced with him as he was now. They never had time to just be Clarke and Roan. But now all they had was time. 

“Why did you almost drown him?” Madi asked, reminding Clarke of their audience. 

“Because he kidnapped me,” Clarke said, raising her eyebrows at him, seeing a small smile ghost over his lips. 

“Why?” Madi asked, looking between them, apparently forgetting the conversation from months ago. 

“Because someone wanted the Wanheda,” Roan answered before he moved away, obviously leaving Clarke to explain some of what happened. “And asked me to find her.”

The moment had passed between them, but it left Clarke’s skin more aware of how the cool air brushed over her arms and the tightness of the clothing against her skin. She felt the weight of her own body, grounded and knowing how deeply she craved being touched. Being touched by him.

“It’s a long story,” Clarke said as she turned her attention to Madi. “I’ll tell you as we finish sorting the berries.”

“Okay, Clarke,” Madi agreed as they walked back to where Clarke had been working before.

“And maybe we can convince Roan to tell us what happened before he found me,” Clarke added, shooting the man a look, seeing his shoulders tense a fraction. There were still some things he was a little reserved about, but she was working on him.

*~*~*

“Day 284. 

I can’t believe it’s been that long already. It seems some days just disappear. I miss you all. I miss my Mom. Kane. Your sister. I’m lucky I’m not alone, I know that, but we had - I mean - I miss talking to you. You helped make sense of this mess in my head. Lately I don’t know - actually, I think I  _ know _ , I’m just - I’m not sure I’m ready. 

And Raven, God I miss you. Sometimes when I’m trying to fix something on the Rover - a constant work in progress by the way - I hear you laughing at my pathetic attempts. If we didn’t have the manual for that engine… but I’m trying. I’ll be sure to tell you all about it when you come back. 

Monty you’ll be happy to hear that our first planting season seems to be a success. I wish it didn’t make me assume it was always this easy but I’m allowed to gloat a little right? Nevermind that I’ve blocked out the days of brutal physical labour and bloody hands from pulling out all those weeds and stones. There’s a type of wheat they grow here I think you’ll find really interesting. It’s very short, very hardy and seems to not care about the temperature which is a blessing for us. Oh! And the oats that I told you about? They made it! I thought we’d lost the crop, but Roan persisted and today we saw signs of recovery after the storm. I’m really excited to see if we can plant something new next season. 

Sorry! I get a little excited about farming, apparently. Roan is wondering if we can build a beehive so we can harvest honey easier. He found it in one of the books from Polis. I’m all for him finding something to do, but it seems like I may need to stock up on sting cream. 

I tell Madi about you. She’ll know all of you. And the others in the bunker. She loves hearing stories from when we got here. About - well about anything. It’s great to be able to talk about you. 

But I should go. I’ve got to charge this thing. I keep getting distracted. But at least we’ve got enough solar panels now to keep the batteries going for a while at least.”

*~*~*

“Hey,” Clarke said as she sat down beside him next to the fire. “Madi’s asleep.”

“Who did you tell her about tonight?” he asked, having overheard Clarke’s bedtime stories more than once. 

The first time had been an accident, as had the second, but he had found himself lingering when she put Madi to bed, curious about the people she talked about. He was certain she noticed but hadn’t said anything to dissuade him yet. He’d never asked about them until now but he’d been busy smoking and drying meat for the winter, so he’d missed her story tonight. They were all working hard preserving meat and grain as they needed what little fish and flesh they could manage to sustain them through the cold. 

“Murphy,” she said, a small smile on her lips. “About when he shot Raven.”

“He shot Raven?” Roan asked in surprise, but realised that may be the reason for her limp. He’d seen damage from bad falls cause similar handicaps. 

“Why don’t you just join us if you want to hear about them?” Clarke asked him, eyes open and warm. “Maybe you could tell us about growing up in Azgeda?”

“No one needs to hear about Azgeda,” he said, shutting himself away, years of habit making him suspicious about her motivation. 

He glanced over when she sighed, sending the fire a disappointed look he knew was meant for himself. He flexed his fingers, still smoky and black from his work today, wishing he had more experience with this kind of conversation. Clarke shifted beside him and he wanted her to stay out here with him a while longer.

“My childhood wasn’t easy,” he admitted. Her eyes snapped over to his, scanning his face until she nodded.

“I guessed,” she said softly, eyes going to his facial scars. He knew she was fascinated by them and he could see how desperately she wanted to ask but she had stopped pushing him for answers. About anything. He wished she still would some days. 

“They are to demonstrate my standing,” he said, her eyes going to his full of surprise. “Like rank. Royal marks. My grandfather chose them for me on my fifteenth winter.”

“Your grandfather?” she asked, shifting a little closer. 

“He was king,” Roan answered. “It was his duty.”

“Why when you were fifteen?” she asked, her hand moving against her leg. 

“It’s when you are considered old enough to bear the mark of Azgeda,” he said. “You can choose not to.”

“Really?” she asked in surprise. “But you can’t stay in Azgeda?”

“Not unless you are trained for something else,” he said, a face coming to mind. “Echo was chosen to spy so she did not receive Azgeda marks.”

“And the ones on your back?” she asked, a little uncertain. He moved his eyes back to the fire, remembering each stroke of the blade as it etched itself into his skin. 

“Initiation marks,” he said quietly. “To mark my abilities as a leader of my people.”

“From what I remember of them,” she said quietly. “They must have taken hours to do. Months to heal properly.”

“Yes,” he said simply because she was right on both accounts.

He’d lain on the hard wooden bench from midday meal to just before dinner that evening, barely remaining wholly conscious throughout the process but pushing himself through. He’d known that he’d have to show a strength he’d previously not known he had. He couldn’t show a single ounce of weakness. Not with his brother and sister watching, depending on his strength to lead in their place.

The marks had taken nearly two lunar cycles to heal fully and even then his skin pulled tight for years afterwards. A constant reminder of the event, and the day, he rose to power within Azgeda. Son of Nia. Grandson of Theo. Rightful heir to Azgeda. And what did it all mean now? Were his brother and sister alive in the bunker in Polis? Locked in a tomb with the other clans? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know any more.

“Can I-“ Clarke started, pulling him out of his own mind and making him look over at her. She had averted her face to the fire, cutting off whatever she had planned on asking him.

“What?” he asked when she didn’t speak again. Clarke inhaled deeply, he watched the rise of her chest and shoulders before she turned to face him, the same look of determination he’d grown so familiar with on her face.

“May I touch them?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

The question made him frown, unsure of what touching the marked skin would give her. She looked more uncertain than he’d ever seen her before, eyes moving quickly between his as he stayed silent, considering her request. It was only skin. Skin that was less sensitive to touch than the few patches that were unmarked by other wounds. It was not leeway he’d allowed many before and now he wondered what would happen if he let her touch him that intimately.

“Why?” he asked, hearing the weight of the question in his own voice.

“I-“ she started, frown deepening for a moment. “I don’t know.”

The answer should have convinced him that it was a bad idea. That to let her close just to satisfy her own curiosities was only going to hurt him in the long run. But he remembered the way her fingertips had tightened in his hair when he’d kissed her and how desperate his dreams had become lately, torturing him with fantasies of how she would taste now. The thought made him look away, body flushing hot with a desire he wasn’t sure he could indulge again.

He shifted to face her, watching her closely as she realised that it was as much consent as he would give her. He steeled himself, breathing slowly to make sure he was ready as she turned her body to face his. She searched his eyes as she raised a hand to his face, his heart racing in his chest. When her fingertips touched the skin of his cheekbone he flinched, her hand withdrawing immediately.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

He quickly grabbed her hand before she could pull away entirely, pulling it closer and pressing her fingers to his skin. He closed his eyes, he needed to hide, to focus only on the points of contact her fingertips made. Her hand stayed still for a moment, waiting for him to adjust, he guessed, before she traced the line over his cheekbone slowly. Her touch was soft and incredibly gentle. It made every muscle in his body tense, not used to touch like this.

“My fingers are cold,” she said as if she needed to fill the air between them with something other than the energy that seemed to pull them together. 

“They’re not,” he assured her, opening his eyes to watch her.

She was watching her fingers but she moved her eyes to his when she saw his attention. There was a world of unsaid words swimming in her blue eyes but what he saw most clearly was awe. Why she would look at him with awe he didn’t know. She held his eyes before returning them to his marks, her fingers tracing the lines once more. 

His muscles slowly relaxed, fists unclenching at his sides as she continued to touch him. He closed his eyes once again, letting himself get lost in the moment, in the gentle sweeps of her fingers and the soft breaths puffing against his lips as she leaned closer. She traced the crescents over and over again; long, slow sweeps that made the skin below her fingers tingle. He wanted to lean into them, turn his face into the palms of her hands but he forced himself to sit still, giving her freedom to touch him as she wanted to. 

“Can I see the others?” she whispered, too close for him to think clearly, his hands moving to the clasps of his jacket before he’d fully understood what she said.

She leaned back, breaking a bit of the spell as he shrugged out of his jacket before he tugged off the shirt underneath. The air was cool and made his skin pull tight, the scars on his back shifting in response. He watched her eyes fall to his chest and he wondered what she saw when she looked at him. He wasn’t one to indulge vanity, but there was a part of him that wanted her to want to look at him. He had certainly indulged a time or two when they were bathing in the past.

Her hands were on his skin as soon as he’d turned his back to her, her touch more sure even as he stiffened once again. Clarke’s hands moved restlessly over the scar work on his back, following paths he’d long ago forgotten their direction. It was a curious contrast in sensation between the dull nothingness of scar tissue and the sensitive span of unmarked skin that seemed to thrill at every sweep of her fingers. His hands clenched into fists again, but this time it was to stop himself from turning and reaching for her, to indulge his own need to touch someone gently. To see if he could hold a body in his broken hands and leave it whole when he was finished. It was a long time since he had allowed himself gentleness. Longer yet since someone had treated him gently. Not since Clarke and longer yet before then. And no matter how wonderful his time with Clarke had been, it was far from enough to satisfy his desire. 

“They are beautiful,” Clarke said, breaking the stillness of the night.

“They?” he asked, curious what she made of the design.

“Your wings,” she said as he shifted to look at her over his shoulder. “That’s what they are, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” he answered, looking at the fire once more.

He wouldn’t tell her why he chose them and he hoped she wouldn’t ask. Some things he wanted to keep to himself. Some things he wasn’t certain he would ever share. He closed his eyes once more when her hands returned to his shoulders, long soothing sweeps over his cooling skin. This wasn’t a soft exploratory press of fingertips, this was a gentle caress meant to soothe him and he felt something once broken realign itself within him.

Clarke didn’t say anything as she continued to sweep her hands over his back, maintaining the motion much longer than he had any right to wish. It was addictive this touch and maybe she could see how desperate he was for it. How his body leaned ever so slightly into her hands, into the heat of her body rather than the fire. How deeply he  _ wanted _ . 

“Thank you,” she said, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before she stood and he stiffened, worried about what she’d say next.

“Do you want some tea?” she asked and he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. “I was going to have some before I go to bed.”

“Please,” he said softly, wanting the excuse to spend more time with her after such an intimate experience.

Roan slipped his shirt back on while Clarke rummaged around in the food preparation area set out near the fire. He watched her through the flames, wishing he could return some of the attention she had just shown him in a similar way. He wanted to touch her too, trace the lines that made her unique, the souvenirs she bore from her time in that body. A body it was getting harder to deny that he wanted to know more intimately. Too much had happened since their stolen moment and his memory of her body was not complete, dull and fractured after what felt like a lifetime. All he knew now was that he wanted to know these things, fill in the empty spaces of his knowledge and give her the pieces of himself he’d long ago thought he’d keep to himself. 

*~*~*

“Day 365.

One year down, four to go. Wow. 

I mean, I know the time has passed. The heat has waned a little so we know the seasons are changing again. It’ll probably get cold quickly. We have the harvest coming up and we’ve done well. We hope to add to the stores every season. There’s a grove of apple trees and I know you probably hate me because all you get is algae, but picking one off a tree to eat right away? It’s amazing. I never would have been able to imagine how amazing. 

Sometimes Madi and Roan look at me like I’ve gone completely insane when I stop and appreciate being here. When I try something new. Like honeycomb. I’m going to keep a piece just for you, Bellamy. It’s amazing. You’ll forget all about the algae farm, I promise! 

I was in the wildflower field yesterday, watching the butterflies like Octavia used to do and I just felt - I don’t know. Like I’d been given something I didn’t know I needed. They are incredible. And the bees? They work so hard. We watched the video files for school, but to see them? Hear them? I’m really lucky. For the first time in a long, long, time I feel lucky. 

And I can’t wait to share it with all of you. Four years. That’s all.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (almost) New Year! Good riddance to 2020 is all I can say and I doubt I'm alone in that. 
> 
> This was two chapters initially, but thanks to [Faith](/users/havealittleFaith/) this is one long one instead. I know it's a bit of an awkward chapter end, but it's the best with the options I had and I'll hopefully have the next bit up soon. I have a little more time coming up this weekend so fingers crossed!
> 
> I also want to say a special thanks to my faithful reviewers for always letting me know what you think. It always makes me smile when I see that you've read a chapter and it's something I look forward to.

Clarke laughed as Madi chased the ball through the centre of the village, her face alive with laughter and delight. It was the kind of look that was quintessentially childish and Clarke was so thankful that despite everything that had happened on this planet, to the people of this world, she could still see a child laugh with such freedom and delight.

“Teik em hod up!” Madi cried (make him stop) through her laughter as Roan followed her through the small area, trying to get the ball from her. “Clarke! Sisen! (help)”

“That would be cheating,” Clarke said, even as she moved to block Roan from following too closely, knowing perfectly well Madi didn’t want any help.

“Step off, Skaigeda,” Roan said when Clarke blocked his way a second time, raising his eyebrows at her and pressing his lips together to keep his smile down.

Clarke’s eyes dipped down to watch the action for a moment and he stilled as he noticed, eyes a shade darker when she met them again. She licked her lips as he stepped closer, his eyes following the motion just as hers had. Clarke knew he was playing a game with Madi, but these moments were becoming more common between her and the king, the line blurred since he let her trace his map of scars. The only affection he’d allowed her since they’d faced the apocalypse together. She was desperate to explore the rest of his scars, to hear more of the stories that accompanied them, to taste the difference in texture with her lips. To learn the intricacies of his skin like she hadn’t had time for the last time.

“Roan!” Madi yelled, farther away than either adult had noticed, breaking the moment between them and making Clarke blush as she averted her eyes.

“Ai komba raun, (I’m coming)” he said, still too close to Clarke for her to shake the awareness of his body. “If you want to join the game, Clarke, all you have to do is ask.”

Clarke looked up sharply at him, wondering if he meant more than the words implied but the look in his eyes was as enigmatic as the man himself. He gave her a slow, lupine smile that made a shiver race down her spine before he ducked around her, giving chase once more. She took a deep breath, needing something to centre herself again, to shake off the shivers that raced down her spine.

“Shit,” she swore softly, returning to hanging the wet clothes she’d washed earlier. She was in so much trouble where Roan was concerned.

“Don’t forget I’m teaching you to drive today,” she called out when she spotted the duo racing through the bushes near the village. “You can’t avoid it any longer.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he called back to her surprise. He’d been set against the idea at the beginning, eyeing the vehicle with suspicion every time she brought the idea up.

“Then let’s go!” she said immediately. “Madi! You too.”

“Can we go to the northern border?” Madi asked as she emerged from between two huts, leaves stuck in her hair, making Clarke smile softly. “Last time we went there we found a rabbit. I want to see if there are more.”

“Okay,” Clarke agreed, tugging the leaves from her hair. “Go get a jacket and your water skin.”

“Northern border?” Roan asked as he came up beside her. “This punishment for me refusing before?”

“No,” she smiled at Madi’s back. “But it’s not a bad place to learn.”

He huffed before he walked off in the direction of his hut to grab the things he needed, making Clarke’s grin even wider. She hurried herself to grab an extra jacket and some water before meeting the other two at the Rover. The northern border was most exposed to the winds and now that it was fall it was getting quite cold. Clarke wondered how cold this winter would get, but knew they needed more supplies and they needed to go to Polis or Arkadia again soon to see if they could find any more winter clothing.

“Wrong side,” Clarke said as Roan opened the passenger door and he glared at her. “You’re doing all the driving today.”

He huffed but helped Madi inside before holding the door open for Clarke and she shook her head as she climbed in the cab, taking the middle seat so she could watch Roan’s hands and feet. When he got in she gave him the rundown she had already given him several times as he’d watched her drive in the past.

“Sure about this?” he asked her, eyes glittering and she narrowed her own suspiciously.

“Madi’s too short to reach the pedals so you’re the only other choice,” she teased as he turned the Rover on and settled his hands on the wheel. “But she’ll learn when she’s big enough.”

“I already know how,” Madi insisted, making Clarke laugh.

“You know the theory,” Clarke agreed, “but doing the driving is a little different.”

“Jok,” Roan swore as he depressed the pedal a little too hard making the Rover jump forward before he pushed hard on the break.

“Gently,” Clarke said patiently. “It takes a while to get the hang of it. Start by just taking your foot off the break and letting it roll.”

Roan glared at her before he did as she instructed, the vehicle moving forward slowly on the flat ground. At least it had the option for automatic gear selection, unless you drove in lower ranges, so he didn’t have to worry about that. Clarke looked at Roan’s hands on the steering wheel finding that he was gripping it tight enough to make his knuckles white.

“Relax your grip,” she said as he concentrated on manoeuvring the car out onto the large path she’d been using to drive on. He knew the way north well enough but also knew from experience that it required more concentration to drive there.

“Roan,” she said softly when he didn’t relax at all. “You’re going slow, but you’ll be able to react better if you’re not gripping the wheel so hard.”

“Ain’t exactly normal,” he grumbled and she smiled at how put out he sounded. She doubted they would make it to the northern border if he didn’t get more comfortable, but as long as he could get a couple of hours under his belt maybe he would start to understand the utility of the vehicle.

“We need to go to Polis soon,” she said after Roan had settled in to driving, his features set and focused as the layout of the landscape changed. “The last winter was difficult enough and it feels colder already. It would be good to have more furs.”

“Think it will get worse?” he asked, eyes on the road.

“Definitely,” she said, glancing at Madi. “The radiation wave will have changed the atmosphere. It’s better to be prepared. We can’t assume the seasons will be the same every year. The dust seems to be dissipating a little now and if what Raven told me is right, it’ll be colder.”

“Then we’ll go to Polis,” he said firmly. 

“There’s something else,” Clarke said, wishing she felt more confident. Roan hummed by way of reply and she pressed on. “We should go to Azgeda.”

“Why?” he asked, voice curt and short. She knew he wouldn’t want to have this conversation and part of her had planned to do it here as a result. 

“Farm station,” she said, hoping her excuse was going to be enough to start alleviating his suspicions. “They had a seed bank. Where they had preserved all types of seeds for crops. It would be really useful if it survived the crash.”

“In Azgeda,” he said knowingly. He knew what his people had done to hers, but it was always odd being in joint remembrance. Clarke had known many from Farm station, Monty’s parents among them, but like most things from life on the Ark, she felt detached. She had hoped that if they went up to Azgeda, it would be enough of a reason to see what remained of Roan’s home. The home he’d only so recently returned to. 

“Yes,” she said softly, watching him closely. “We could see what else is left if it’s safe enough.”

“Why?” Roan asked abruptly, his hands flexing on the steering wheel. Clarke wished she’d chosen to drive, but decided to keep pushing. 

“Don’t you want to know?” she asked, catching Madi’s concerned look at Roan. “There may be something-”

“And if there is?” he asked. “What are you looking for, Clarke? Sentimentality? There is nothing left of Azgeda for me to take back with me. My people are underground, if any survived. All we will find is ash and bone.”

“Maybe-” Clarke started but swallowed her words at his sharp look. He was agitated. Too agitated for a driving lesson. 

“We will go to Farm Station,” his voice was resolute, his eyes on the road ahead. “If the seeds survived it will be worth the trip.”

Clarke knew the subject was closed. Even if she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did, there was something about how he spoke that would have convinced even the least observant. It was a start, she supposed. Once they were there in Azgeda, maybe he would want to venture further in. See more. Bury his own ghosts. 

“The trees are growing thicker here than before,” Roan pointed out, effectively changing the subject as he eased the Rover up and over a hill she was surprised he could navigate as efficiently as he did. She wondered just how closely he had been paying attention when she drove.

“You’re doing really well,” she complimented and he shot her a look. “You can’t possibly be good at everything, you know that, right?”

“I am aware,” he said softly, a frown on his face she didn’t like.

“You’ve been paying attention,” Clarke said, hoping to distract him and his lip quirked. “More attention than I thought you were.”

“I’m always paying attention to you,” he said, something a little teasing in his tone. “Best way to learn.”

“Apparently,” Clarke teased, watching his profile carefully but he didn’t give anything else away.

They drove on in silence for a while, only broken occasionally by Madi’s comments about something she spotted out the window. They made it all the way to the northern border in one piece. It took longer than when Clarke drove, Roan drove slowly and carefully but not badly. He released a long breath when he climbed out of the cabin and into the biting wind out of the Rover.

“Good job,” Clarke said, smiling up at him. He gave her a placid look, eyes glinting in the harsh sunlight. “I can’t compliment your skills?”

“You can,” he said. “It’s not difficult, Clarke.”

“It took me a lot longer to get a hang of it,” she admitted, looking away before she could see any laughter in his eyes. “When should we leave for Polis?”

“We’ll need to be home to harvest and dry the grain in two weeks,” Roan’s voice was soft with suppressed amusement, making her pride prickle knowing she was the source even as she appreciated moving away from her admission. “We should go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” She frowned, following Madi’s progress through the trees. Even so many months later she was still wary of unknown threats. People that may still be lying in wait to take someone else from her. Would there ever be a time she wouldn’t be looking over her shoulder? 

“Why wait?” The king asked, the undercurrent of authority that used to so frequently colour his words present once more. This was the Azhefa wanting compliance and results, not Roan debating the best course of action. Returning to Azgeda bothered him. Clarke glanced up at him, but like his tone, he’d donned his impenetrable mask once more, hiding away from her. 

“I suppose,” she frowned, sighing softly when he refused to meet her eyes, moving off to follow Madi instead. 

*~*~

“We’re back from Polis. We decided not to try to go to Farm Station now. We didn’t want to wait out storms for another couple of days. We’ll have to try again at a different time. Roan thinks it may be seasonal. So we’ll go back when our usual storms at home die down. Hopefully that’ll mean that we can cross into Azgeda. 

To be honest, I’m happy we didn’t make it. Roan - I’m sure he doesn’t want me saying anything, but he’s so - I don’t even know. So cold? Is there irony in calling the king of Azgeda cold? He doesn’t want to go, I know that, but I think he should. See if maybe there’s something left up there. It’s not like we don’t have the time. But I guess I can’t force him. 

Anyway. We’re back home. Got a whole bunch of books, more furs and clothes because Madi is growing like a weed. I finally understand that expression too, by the way. Less fun when dealing with actual weeds. 

We have enough to keep us occupied through winter. To teach Madi math and history, some literature. I’m still trying to get the tablet to work again, but I’m not sure. It worked all of one day. I think the battery is dead. I don’t know. Raven? What should I try next?

Sorry, I know, I know, it’s probably broken but I’ve got time. And if I do figure it out it would be amazing. I can’t wait to see Madi’s face when she sees it work. And maybe it’ll even have something for Roan to marvel at. Turn the tables around on him a bit. 

I miss you all. Until tomorrow.”

*~*~*

“Roan’s finished,” Madi said as she came bouncing up to where Clarke was busy organising the books they’d decided would line one of the walls in the large longhouse. “He said you can bring whatever you want inside.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Clarke said with a smile, happy to see the glitter in the girl’s eyes when talking about moving into the large building she’d dreaded entering only months before. “Sure you’re ready to move?”

“Yes!” she nodded happily before disappearing down further into the village. Clarke let her eyes follow the girl, her dark hair flowing behind her as she darted around invisible obstacles down the path, lost in a game only she knew. The lightness of childhood had overcome the weight of her grief and Clarke made sure Madi had lots of free time to explore and play as she should be able to. Unlike what she herself or Roan had grown up with. 

Hefting a basket of books, Clarke walked over to the longhouse and into the low light of the interior. Roan looked up from where he was pushing a long table up against one wall, his muscles straining under the heavy weight. 

“Need some help?” Clarke asked, setting the basket down near the empty shelves where they were planning on setting up a small library of their collected books. Roan’s eyebrow shot up as he shook his head at her, lifting one edge with ease, biceps bulging and attracting her gaze. It was unfair how incredibly attractive that man was, especially now when her fingers constantly itched to touch him again, run her fingers over scar and sinew, grip and pull -

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, looking away abruptly, hoping he didn’t hear her words or notice her lingering attention. 

“So, you still planning on moving in here?” Roan asked as he approached, stretching his arms above his head, causing the short sleeved shirt he wore to ride up and expose his sculpted abdominals. Clarke would swear he was more well built now after hours of hard physical labour than before, not that he had needed any help in that department. She knew her own body had changed after months of tending fields and repairing the village. 

“Clarke?” he prodded, stopping before her, a small grin on his lips when she looked up to catch his eyes. Shit, he’d caught her staring this time. No doubt about it. 

“Yeah,” she answered quickly, moving to pick up a handful of books. “Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, stepping closer still and reaching across her to pick up some books himself. 

“I can do this,” she argued softly, even as she shifted closer to his body. He smelled of fresh cut pine and woodshavings, dust and sweat, a day spent hard at work making furniture and moving it into place. “You must be tired.”

“Not exactly a hardship,” he said, his voice soft with amusement. “I’m done for the day.”

“Right,” Clarke huffed with a smile. “You’re never done.”

“What exactly are you implying?” he asked, straightening and crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded her. 

“I’m not implying anything,” she replied as she put away another small bundle of books she’d organise once they were all in there. “You work hard.”

“There is always work to be done,” he said. Clarke knew that was the way of it for him. There was something that needed to be done and he was often capable of it. So he worked. With a stubbornness and one mindedness that was almost obsessive some days. Like he was making up for some shortcoming only he knew about. 

“There is,” she agreed, putting the last of the books away and straightening to face him. “But you have me.”

“I have you,” he murmured but Clarke couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question. The darkness in his eyes didn’t make it any easier to decipher and the air between them grew heavy. 

“Yes,” she whispered before clearing her throat. “And Madi. We can help.”

“You do,” he said as he considered her. His eyes were sharp on her, dark with whatever thoughts were crowding his mind behind them and Clarke wished she knew what he was thinking. “We work together.”

“As a family,” she said and the air between them grew thicker still. She swallowed and licked her lips, his eyes dipping to follow the motion. Clarke became more aware of each breath she took as she waited for his answer, for some indication of what he was considering. What he might want from her. If he wanted like she wanted. 

“Family,” he said finally, his voice deep and low, barely audible in the small space between them. His forehead creased in thought, his eyes darted away for a moment before returning. “Depends on what you consider family.”

“What do you consider family?” she asked. 

“My family was much different from yours, Clarke,” he huffed, shifting on his feet. “It was not what we have.”

“What do we have?” She felt her heart pick up pace, hope and fear fighting for dominance in her mind. She wondered if he could see the shiver in her skin as she exhaled, her whole body wanting to tremble in anticipation. This felt like  _ the _ moment. Like the final crossroads before they knew which direction they were going to go. If he said no to her now, she’d let it go. Let him walk away even if he took the piece of her with him that was his alone. 

He cocked his head to one side as the silence stretched between them. He gave no sign of wanting to speak, but his eyes were busy tracking her features as he considered her question. Maybe this could be much more simple. Much more straightforward. She didn’t need to hear any declarations or definitions from him, all she wanted to know was if there was a chance. Suddenly she had a flash of memory and she knew what to say. 

“Do I have to ask?” Clarke asked as she stepped closer to him. 

He frowned softly and she wondered if he remembered the offhand comment from a couple of weeks before that had left her flushed hot and desperate to know if he felt the same pull she did. The moment that had her going to bed early, twisting her fingers in the cloths on her bed as she did her best to keep herself quiet when she made herself come later that night, his voice and hands the only thing she could remember of her fantasy. 

“Ask what?” he asked, uncrossing his arms as the space between their bodies shrunk. 

Clarke has a feeling she has to be the one to move, the one to reach into the void between them and pull the other through. It was a terrifying proposition. But Clarke has never backed down just because she was scared. At worst he’d push her away and things would be awkward for a while. At best she wouldn’t have to get herself off every night, lost in a twisted mess of memories and fantasies of how he would taste, how he would move inside of her. 

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, his eyes flashing with surprise even as he moved them to her lips. 

He didn’t answer her, but the distance closed between them as his hands settled on her hips and Clarke pushed up onto her toes to press her lips against his. He froze the same way he had when she’d touched his scars, the muscles in his body stiff and unyielding. But his lips were soft and warm so Clarke waited, keeping her explorations soft and teasing until a great wave of tension fell from his shoulders and he kissed her back. Clarke’s eyes fluttered shut and her hands tightened on his shoulders.

He kissed her like it was the only thing he’d ever wanted to do. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit it was a relief. He teased her lower lip with his tongue, encouraging her to open to him and she did so easily. That was when she found out that kissing Roan was something her memories had barely done justice to. From the heat of his mouth, the slide of his tongue and the soft tickle of hzis beard, she was awash in sensation. He held her close, fingers tight on her hips and she wrapped her arms tighter around him in response. He was dominant and engaged, leading her to where he wanted. Taking what he needed and giving her more of himself than she had ever anticipated. She’d never had a kiss quite like it before.

She just hoped that he would be willing to kiss her again. 

“Wow,” she whispered when he pulled back, his breath ragged against her lips. “Wow.”

He hummed, cupping her cheek before diving in again, this time softer, more sensual, but still as charged as before. Roan kissed her like the world depended on it, leaving her head swimming and heart racing in her chest. She wanted more but she needed time. Needed to think this through because going further deserved a conversation at least. Going further thrilled her but what came with it all terrified her more. 

“Ai na smuch yu op?” he whispered against her lips, kissing her again and drawing out a smile from her. 

“Kind of already are,” she answered, feeling his lips quirk against hers even as he kept his kisses slow and gentle.

“Good,” he rumbled before deepening the kiss again, hands soft around her face and hip as his arm pulled her close. 

She was surprised at how long he allowed the kiss to continue while keeping it at the same intensity. He didn’t push her further, seeming to savour the contact and connection just as she was. Enjoying the action of just kissing without asking for more. 

“I hope we can do that again,” she said after he’d pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers. The hand on her neck tightened for a moment before he straightened.

“Perhaps,” he said, eyes unreadable in the low light. “Going to bed?”

“Yeah,” she said, wishing for a more definitive answer than the one he gave her. 

Clarke watched him for a long moment but his expression barely flickered, shifting himself away from her once more. She wanted to sigh at the painful punch in her chest but pushed through instead. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself against him and waiting until he relaxed and hugged her back. Affection seemed entirely foreign to him even now after nearly a year with Madi’s frequent hugs. Even if they never repeated the kiss, Clarke vowed to continue showing him physical affection because there was something desperate in the way he clung to her that made her certain he wanted it.

“Goodnight,” she whispered against his throat before she let him go, stepping back with a smile. 

*~*~*

Roan watched Madi patiently wait out the fish before launching her spear with precision through the clear water. She smiled as she pulled it out of the water making him nod proudly before calling her out. It was getting cold and there was a storm moving in so they needed to be efficient with their time.

“Good, Little Nightblood,” he complimented, using Clarke’s nickname for the girl. 

“Clarke asked me to get two,” Madi said as she handed him her fish.

He held up the line he’d cast while she was fishing, producing another large silver fish. Madi eyed it critically before nodding to his amusement. She sat down beside him, laying her spear between them on the rock.

“Clarke said we were all going to stay in the longhouse over winter,” Madi said, watching the water flow. He cursed internally, not wanting to discuss this particular point with the child.

“Perhaps,” he said to her surprise. “It was an idea we discussed.”

“She thinks you’ve decided,” Madi said. “She’s moving our things today before the storm.”

“You can stay there either way,” Roan said, hoping it would satisfy the girl but she was too astute as always.

“With you,” she said firmly. “Why wouldn’t we?”

“It’s complicated,” he sighed, throwing a rock into the flowing water. He felt Madi’s eyes on him and wished he didn’t feel as obligated to her happiness as he did. She was firmly under his skin, his daughter in all but blood. Though even then, the three of them essentially shared that bond too.

“What did she say this time?” Madi asked, sounding too resigned. He looked over at her and she returned his inquiring look a little too blandly.

“What do you mean, little one?” he asked, trying to be gentle rather than chiding.

“She told me she failed you,” Madi said and it was his turn to be surprised. He waited, hoping she would reveal more and curious how much Clarke would have explained to the girl. She’d been reluctant to tell her everything in the past.

“ We failed each other,” Roan said when Madi didn’t add anything to her statement.

“Are you still angry?” Madi asked. 

Roan looked at the water before noticing the way his thumb stroked the scar on his palm. The only blood oath he’d ever sworn was with Clarke and she had betrayed it. But he didn’t carry anger for her any longer. He hadn’t for a long time. He understood why she’d made the decisions she had. He had forgiven her long ago. 

“No, I’m not angry,” he said finally, a weight easing between his shoulders. ”Clarke did what was right for her people. For everyone, even if it didn’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Madi asked and Roan debated what to tell her. How to explain such complicated politics to a child. Even if his own lessons had been much harsher at the same age.

“Skaikru were the only ones who could run the bunker,” he said seeing her frown. “In her position I would have done the same.”

“The same?” Madi asked.

“I would have honoured my vow to share it with Skaikru,” he added because he wouldn’t have broken his promise to Clarke. “But I understand why she thought I wouldn’t listen.”

“Then what did she do now?” Madi asked. He was a little amused at her immediate defence of himself but decided to leave that for another day.

“Nothing,” Roan assured her. 

“You have stopped speaking to her,” Madi continued, set on getting to the bottom of this apparently.

“It’s my fault,” Roan said, hoping it was enough.

“Then apologise,” Madi insisted. “She’ll forgive you.”

“I’m not sure it’s about forgiveness, little one,” he said, looking at the pale scar on his palm.

“Then why can’t we live together?” Madi asked and he wondered if there was more to her questions. Maybe she was looking for more than she was being given.

“We do, Madi,” he said. “We have a whole village to ourselves.”

“I want us to have a home,” she whispered. He heard the catch in her voice and looked over at her, pulling her against his side when he saw her pain.

“We do, little one,” he whispered. “Let me talk to Clarke.”

He was being a coward. Kissing Clarke had broken his heart wide open and he didn’t know if he could go back to a world without her passion. It had ignited something in him he had fought long and hard to bury. Now Clarke stood before him, offering him the same passion, the same intensity of feeling that he’d always dreamed of and he wasn’t sure he could allow himself to fall again. To risk the only part of him that was still  _ his _ .

He shook his head. He could recover from a broken heart, he knew he could. But he worried that Clarke only chose him now because he was all there was. Literally the only other adult on the planet she had access to. It wasn’t encouraging. But his thoughts drifted to the woman herself and asked himself the same question. Was he choosing Clarke simply because she was there. Convenient? Or was he choosing her because he wanted Clarke.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone, your response to the last chapter was amazing. Truly. Today is a very tough anniversary for me so I thought I'd try and do something positive with it. Enjoy and stay safe out there. 
> 
> I hope 2021 brings all of you a little more joy, a little more peace, and boundless happiness. And a hell of a lot less pandemic!

“Clarke?” Roan asked, making her look up at his approach, Madi at his side.

He turned and spoke quietly to the girl who nodded and walked over to the table, two large fish in hand. Clarke took down the last of the bedding she’d washed and dried, picking up the full basket and walking over to where Roan was putting away their fishing gear. She felt a twist of tingling anticipation in her belly as she got closer, a constant in the two weeks since they’d kissed. She forced her eyes to remain on his rather than drop to his lips as she stopped beside him.

“I see you were successful,” she said with a smile, hoping he couldn’t tell how fast her heart was racing in her chest.

“Yes,” he agreed, turning to face her. His eyes tracked her face, not hiding the dip of his attention to her lips. She was surprised by his open display, frowning softly at him.

“I’ve moved some of our things,” she said, looking over his shoulder at the longhouse in the centre of the village and clearing her throat to continue. “And I swept the hearth so if you’re still thinking about moving in with us there…”

Clarke let the end of the sentence hang in the air, knowing it was the less brave option but since he’d been avoiding her the last week she wasn’t sure he was still planning on everyone staying in the same house over winter. It had made sense when they had initially discussed it, before they kissed and Clarke had decided to continue to act as if that was what they were going to do. It was easier and safer to only heat one house internally and the longhouse offered the most space and the safest hearth. When she met his eyes again there was something she had trouble interpreting brewing in them, making her swallow thickly.

“I’ll need help moving the mattresses,” she said quietly, looking down when his hand closed around hers.

“Miya,” he said softly, tugging her along to follow him, eyes flickering over to where Madi was watching them briefly. She copied his action but Madi was busy cleaning the fish so she set the basket on the ground and followed Roan as he led her to his hut, hand still warm in his.

“What-?” she asked when he let the curtain fall shut behind them, stopping and turning to face him. “What’s going on?”

“If I move in with you,” he said, putting his free hand on her hip making her breath hitch. “Where should I sleep?”

“There’s-“ she started but stopped to clear her throat as her nerves sparked. “There’s plenty of space. It’s up to you.”

He stepped closer to her, leaving only a little space between their bodies, making her lean her head back to hold his eyes. He watched her closely as he dropped her hand, settling his other hand on her hip, holding her in place. She didn’t know what to do with her own hands but settled them against his chest. His eyes shut when she did, a small flicker of a smile on his lips before he opened his eyes and locked them on hers. She had no idea what he was thinking, what he was doing.

“Where are  _ you _ going to sleep?” he asked, voice low and positively sinful. Fuck.

Clarke felt her eyelids flutter closed at the tone he used and bit her lip to stop herself from saying wherever he was sleeping. She didn’t know what he wanted her to say. She was certain he knew what she wanted, what she was hoping he wanted too but maybe. Maybe he was as uncertain as she was.

“I’ve put my things on one side of the longhouse,” she said, looking up at him, a little confused since he’d helped arrange the space. “Moved one of the screens, made a bit of a private area. Made the same for Madi at the other end.”

“Leaving me where?” he asked, pulling her close enough that their hips were touching.

“Chit yu gaf?” she asked, unbalanced by his proximity, by the feel of his hands on her hips. Her voice was breathless, softer than normal, and a little unsure. She needed to know what he was asking her. Truly asking her. She had made the first move, he needed to give a bit too.

“Ai gaf yu in,” he admitted quietly, eyes alive in the low light of his hut. “If you’ll have me.”

“Yes,” she answered immediately. “I want you. So much.”

Roan leaned down immediately, capturing her lips and kissing her. It was as passionate and intense as their first kiss since the new world. Her heart was hammering in her chest, fingers clutching at his shirt, as she opened her mouth to him. He groaned when his tongue swept in to taste her again, his hands moving up her spine to hold her against him as he explored her mouth.

“Maybe we should keep separate huts,” she whispered when he pulled away from her, panting softly. “Not sure I’ll be able to resist you if we’re sharing a bed.”

“I can be quiet,” he whispered, kissing the corner of her mouth before moving to nip gently at her throat. “The longhouse is big. And there are more screens.”

“Are you-?” she asked, moving to dig her fingers into his hair and hold him against her throat. “You want this? With me?”

“Yes,” he said, a low rumbling laugh she hadn’t heard before filling the space between them. “Very much.”

“Oh,” she whispered, half in surprise, half in want as his fingers tightened in her hair, moving her head to give him more access to her skin.

His other hand slipped a little lower on her hip, cupping her ass and pulling her a little harder against his hips. There was no mistaking his interest then and Clarke gripped his hair tighter. Roan groaned, pressing them even closer together before Clarke tugged his hair to encourage him to kiss her again. It was dangerous losing herself in him like this but she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to stop. She wanted to fall and keep falling with him, feeling the earth start to tilt under her feet from it all.

“Ai gaf yu in,” he repeated, pressing a kiss against her temple as he held her close, tucking her head under his chin. “I have for a long time.”

“How long?” she asked, curious. Even with everything they were facing, there were moments where she’d looked at him before Praimfaya and wondered. Before Becca’s lab. Maybe he had too.

“Longer than you think,” he admitted, making her smile against his throat. “I just needed time to remember that.”

“You thought I only want you because you’re all I have?” she asked, pulling back and catching the downward pull of his lips. “Roan?”

“I know it may still be why,” he said, cupping her cheek, running his thumb over her cheekbone. “But I’m finding it very hard to resist you.”

Clarke scanned his face as he spoke, for once he was open, his face showing more expression than she’d anticipated. He avoided eye contact, leaving his focus on his thumb, on her lips. Clarke didn’t want him to think he was a convenience or opportune. Out of anyone she knew, Roan deserved to know that he was wanted. That he was more than the king he’d been raised to be.

“The first night on the island,” she said, his eyes moving to hers. “Before – when all I knew was that you were asleep in the room next to me – I had to force myself to stay in bed. Remind myself that I couldn’t crawl into bed next to you and see if you felt anything close to what I did. Try and tell myself that we were allies, friends maybe, and nothing more.”

“Not sure we’ve ever been just allies, Clarke,” he said, lips softly turned up and shoulders dropping a fraction.

“I have wanted you a long time too,” she whispered, holding his blue eyes with her own. “I just never thought you’d be interested in someone like me.”

“Someone like you?” He huffed in disbelief. “I’m not sure what you mean by that.”

“You’re a king, Roan,” she reminded him, knowing she needed to press forward even as pain flashed behind his eyes. “I was technically imprisoned for treason. Not really an equal match.”

“I  _ was _ a king,” he corrected, not hiding the pain in his eyes. “I’m no one now.”

“You will always be a king,” she said. “It’s my fault you’re not with your people now. I should have trusted you.”

“Do you trust me now?” he asked after considering her words. 

“Yes,” she said, knowing that she’d follow him unfailingly now. And would continue to do so come what may.

“You are more than a worthy match for a king,” he said, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. 

“But am I a worthy match for you?” she asked, tears swimming in her eyes feeling the enormity of the moment weigh on her. 

He’d sacrificed so much for her, nearly given his life for her, that now when everything was laid out between them she felt woefully inadequate. She knew he had forgiven her. She believed him when he said he understood her reasons. But she hadn’t done enough for him. Not to truly balance out what she’d done. Not only to him but to everyone. 

“You are more than I have ever dreamt of having, Clarke,” he said and her tears spilled over. “More than a man like me deserves.”

With those words he kissed her until she forgot what she was trying to convince him of. He kissed her until she was freely pressing herself against him, a familiar heat growing between her legs that begged for attention. When he pulled back from her, all she could do was chase after his lips, finally able to have what she’d dreamt of from him. 

“You’re sleeping with me,” she said, hearing a crash from outside that reminded them both where they were. He smirked at her before pressing a final soft kiss against her lips. 

“I’ll get my things,” he said, giving her a gentle squeeze before he stepped back. 

“What do we tell Madi?” she asked, finally able to focus on the rustling outside. He gave her a look that made her mind go to places it shouldn’t, making her push lightly at his chest. It caused one of his rare smiles to bloom over his face and she realised just how happy he was at the change in their dynamic. Roan took the hand pressed against his chest and kissed her palm. It was sweet and more affectionate than she’d expected.

“That we will be farther from the hearth and need to keep each other warm,” he rumbled, humour glittering in his eyes. “She’s old enough to understand, Clarke.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to be the one to tell her about that,” she said, making him laugh again. It was nice. 

“She knows how families live,” he said, smile softening into something more serious. “That’s all she needs to know until she asks.”

“That we’re a family?” Clarke asked, breath catching somewhere in her chest. The thought made warmth bloom in her heart.

“We’re family,” he repeated, holding her gaze. “I’ll come help you move the beds soon.”

“Okay,” she said, hesitating a moment before she pushed up onto her toes and kissed his cheek before she turned and left his hut. 

She bit her lip as she walked over to where Madi was sitting at the table, weaving strips of fabric together. The girl looked up as Clarke approached, frowning briefly before looking back to her work. Clarke wished she could feel guilty about leaving Madi out here alone for however long she’d spent with Roan but she was too happy, too excited about what would come now.

“What are you working on?” Clarke asked instead, still fascinated at her skill at weaving. “Thank you for cleaning the fish.”

“Harvesting sashes,” Madi said, looking up at her. 

“Good idea,” Clarke said, sitting beside her. “We should be moved into the longhouse tonight if you want to bring your things.”

“Is Roan coming too?” Madi asked a little anxiously. “Did you talk?”

“Yes,” Clarke nodded, wondering how best to explain it to the girl. “I’ve put your bed on one side and ours on the other if you want to come look.”

Madi frowned again at her explanation but didn’t ask for clarification. Instead she rose and followed Clarke who stopped in their old hut to pick up another basket of clothing and bedding. It wasn’t necessary to bring everything but Clarke wanted her essentials in one place. 

“Here, this is your bed,” Clarke said, pulling an extra screen down to help block off the area. There would be common space between the two makeshift bedrooms so this would give Madi a place of her own. 

“Roan and I will sleep over there,” Clarke said, pointing to a large blue partition. 

“Like nomon and nontu?” she asked, looking to where Clarke had indicated. 

“Yes,” Clarke said, a warm flush spreading through her limbs as she remembered Roan saying they were a family now. She glanced over at Madi and saw a small smile on her face before she turned away to unpack her things in her new sleeping area. 

“The storm is moving in,” Roan said as he entered the longhouse. “We need to move the beds now.”

“Alright,” Clarke said, putting her load down and trying to figure out what needed to be prioritised. 

The trio worked hard as the cloud cover thickened and darkened overhead. An hour later the beds were in place along with most of Madi and Clarke’s belongings. They just managed to put away the last of the food outside as the first large drops of rain fell. The wind whipped wildly around Clarke as she shooed Madi inside. 

“You too,” Roan said as the rain started in earnest. “Go inside, I’ll get the last of the food.”

Clarke did as he asked, knowing there was nothing left to do but bunker down for the afternoon and night, possibly even the following day. They had plenty of firewood and supplies, now all they needed to do was occupy themselves indoors. 

“Empti?” Clarke asked Madi who nodded.

They hadn’t eaten lunch in favour of preparing for the storm. By the time Clarke had put out fruit and some dried fish for lunch in the middle of the room, the rain was beating down on the windows and drowning out most ambient noise in the house. Roan was soaking wet when he came inside, a large basket in his arms.

“Time to stay inside,” Roan said, putting the basket down beside the table. He moved to pull a table in front of the main entry to the house, obviously concerned about the wind. He checked on Madi before stripping off his jacket and shirt and hung them in front of the fire. Clarke watched the play of the flames over the ridges of muscle he revealed and forced her eyes to task, promising herself that she would explore that particular canvas once they had some privacy.

The afternoon passed quietly as the weather raged outside. A sense of calm fell over the house and Clarke smiled as she listened to Roan practice English with Madi, knowing the two of them would soon be over with her correcting her Trig grammar. It felt safe and settled. Meant to be. Like family.

*~*~*

“Madi’s asleep,” Roan said as he came around the edge of the partition Clarke had set up for their bed. “The fire should be fine through the night.”

The thought made his eyes move over to where she sat on the edge of the pallet, looking up at him. He felt a thrill knowing that they had gotten here, to this point. Even if this moment was all he had, he was grateful for the opportunity. To share a bed with someone wasn’t something he’d indulged in often. And never for longer than a night. He had never felt comfortable enough. Not safe.

“Think the storm will wane?” she asked as she moved back onto the bed, lips softening into a smile.

“I don’t know,” he said, stripping his shirt off, enjoying the way her eyes ran down his torso. “I doubt it.”

He toed off his boots, pushing them into a corner with his feet before moving his hands to the fastening of his pants. Normally he’d sleep nude, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to navigate the next few moments. He was man enough to admit that he’d take whatever physical expression of their new relationship she’d offer, hopeful that she’d at least allow his hands on her skin. He’d dreamt of it for so many nights he was nearly desperate to find out how his imagination compared to reality.

“Come here,” she said softly, making him abandon his task and crawl up the bed to hover above her. She was wearing only a light shirt and a pair of the soft sleep pants he knew she was partial to indoors. Maybe he’d see about getting some for himself for when they spent time inside as a family.

“Planning on taking these off?” Clarke asked as she ran her hands from his shoulders down to the waistband of his pants. Her fingertips skimmed along the edge of the leather, tickling the skin below.

“Yes,” he acknowledged but moved to press her down into the bed instead of doing so, kissing her deeply.

He explored her mouth, her hands running up his back, skating over his scarred back. It was an incredible sensation. The warm wetness of her mouth and the cool touch of her fingers over skin that varied so greatly in sensitivity. He groaned softly when she pulled him close, wrapping her legs around his hips.

“Thought you could be quiet?” she whispered when he abandoned her mouth to explore her throat.

“The storm will drown out any noise,” he said softly, sucking sharply under her ear, enjoying the sharp gasp it elicited from her.

He let one hand slide up from her hip to cup one of her breasts through her shirt, thrilled at his ability to do what he’d dreamt about. He moved his thumb to rub against her nipple making it harden in response and he knew he needed to explore her reactions to him more thoroughly. His cock was already painfully hard in his pants and he pressed his hips firmly into the bed as he moved down her torso.

“Let me-“ Clarke said as she pulled the shirt over her head, revealing her naked torso to him.

He took a moment to admire her, amazed at how soft and pale her skin was, especially when contrasted to his own hands. He looked up at her face, finding her expression soft and a little hesitant so he lowered his mouth to press a kiss to her sternum before he explored her breasts with his mouth and fingers. By the time he’d had his fill she was rocking her hips into him, making small whimpering noises as he sucked hard on her nipple.

“Please, Roan,” she whispered, tugging down on his hair. “I need more.”

“More?” He teased even as one hand cupped her sex through the soft pants she wore, groaning when he discovered that she was already wet enough to make the material damp. “Jok, Klark.”

“Please,” she repeated. “I need you.”

“You have me,” he said, kissing his way down her belly, her skin softer than he had ever remembered, hooking his fingers into the waistband before tugging them down and off her legs. He felt his breath stutter in his chest as he sat back to admire her, overwhelmed that she was here like this before him.

“Your turn,” she said, eyes on his lower body. He stood up and stripped out of his pants, eyes on her face as she tracked her eyes down his body. When she licked her lips he couldn’t help giving his cock a couple of firm strokes to ease the urge to immediately crawl between her legs and fuck her until she screamed for him.

“Come here,” Clarke said but he shook his head.

“I want to taste you first,” he said, running his palms down her legs as he lowered himself between her thighs.

“I-“ she said but cut off when he pressed his lips just above her clit.

He took his time exploring her sex with his mouth and fingers, learning just what made her arch up into his hands and bite down hard to keep her moans quiet. She whimpered as he sucked hard on her clit, making him thrust his own hips into the bed below him. He wanted to tease her, bring her to the brink and soothe her back down, time and time again until all she knew was pleasure but it had been too long and she was too responsive to his touch. When she came she pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her own cry, hips locking around his shoulders to hold him in place.

“Fuck,” she whispered when she released her legs from around him and he smiled into the skin of her hips, running his hands in soothing sweeps down her legs.

“Come here,” she said again, making him smile when he looked up at her. “Please.”

He kissed his way up her torso, letting his hands follow his lips and mouth, absorbed by the feel of her skin against his own. His cock was an insistent presence between his legs, but he was happy with what he had now. Wanting only Clarke’s skin against his own. He settled himself between her legs, keeping himself still while he leaned in to kiss her, pouring everything he felt into how he moved his mouth against hers.

“I need you,” she whispered into the sound of the storm around him, making his heart thump painfully behind his ribs. “Roan, please.”

“Whatever you want,” he said before lining himself up with her entrance and pushing inside.

*~*~*

Her body was still humming from the incredible orgasm Roan had given her but it paled in comparison to the feel of him pushing inside of her. He held himself still once he was fully inside her and Clarke gripped his shoulders tight, thankful for the opportunity to adjust.

“You are incredible,” he rumbled beside her ear before he withdrew just enough to thrust back in again with a groan.

“You too,” she whispered, echoing his sentiments exactly but unable to think clearly once he started moving inside of her.

It felt amazing. The way his hands gripped her hips. The way his lips brushed against the skin of her throat. The intimate press of his hard belly against her own. Everything felt right. Balanced. Any time he noticed her breath hitch he adjusted his movement until she was closing in on another orgasm far more quickly than she thought possible. When she came again, Clarke bit her lip hard but wasn’t quite able to keep her whimper down.

“Let go,” she whispered into his skin as he snapped his hips hard into her. “Please.”

He raised his head up to look down at her, searching her eyes for a moment before kissing her. He kept moving in her, but she still felt like he was holding himself back. She tightened her legs around him, encouraging him and making him groan and close his eyes.

“Please, Roan,” she repeated, pulling him down for another kiss, hoping he’d lose himself in it until he felt as good as she did now.

“Clarke-“ he said but cut himself off with a kiss, snapping his hips into hers, the storm raging against the windows around them. He grunted softly before burying himself deep as he emptied himself inside of her. She smiled as she held his face against her throat, running her fingers through his hair as he panted against her.

“Moba,” he said, pulling back and making her frown. “It’s been too long.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m one up on you,” she said with a shake of her head even as he frowned at her. “It was perfect.”

“I shouldn’t have lost control,” he said, eyes serious as he cupped her cheek. “We need to be careful.”

“Careful?” She frowned and he arched an eyebrow at her. “I don’t understand.”

“Are you certain you should be having this discussion with Madi,” he said as he shifted out of her and pulled her against his side. It took a moment before she realised what he was talking about, smiling into the darkness around them. She took his hand, pressing his fingers against where a small incision scar was in her arm, helping him locate the tube under her skin.

“In space we had to do everything we could to prevent any accidental pregnancies,” she explained. “This is good for at least another couple of years. Then we have to be more careful.”

Roan’s fingers continued to explore the small object under her skin and she couldn’t resist moving to look up at him, enjoying the curiosity she saw in his eyes. When he noticed her attention he shifted his eyes to hers and settled his hand on her cheek instead. His thumb brushed softly against her cheekbone as he thought over what she’d told him.

“Interesting,” he said, a small smile tugging one corner of his lip.

“Convenient,” she said with a smile and watched his grow.

“Very,” he rumbled before he kissed her again, pulling her close.

He didn’t move to deepen the kiss beyond the soft press of his lips against hers, his hand settling loosely on her collarbone before sweeping down the length of her side. He continued to run his fingers and hand over her as he kissed her and moved to lie on his back, pulling her to lay on his chest. She returned the same soft affection, her fingers seeking out the ridges and planes of his body, exploring and learning it by feel.

They kept up their mutual gentle affection until he’d hardened again and pulled her up to straddle his lap. This time he let her set the pace, watching her rise and fall over him, the storm flashing outside the house. Their own breathing matched the frantic rhythm of the wind as it tore around the corners, lightning shattering the darkness just as Clarke saw stars again. It was heady and perfect, feeling him pulse and empty himself inside of her, hand gripping her hips tight as he groaned.

As incredible as their physical releases together was, nothing compared to the feeling of him wrapping her close against his body as she settled in to sleep. His grip was tight then too but it seemed for the same reason as hers. She was still amazed that they were here. Together.


	16. Chapter 16

“We’re heading out at first light tomorrow. Madi is probably too excited to sleep. I swear she’s been talking non-stop since we told her we’re going to the Island. Well, the lab in the middle of a large patch of sand that used to be an island I suppose…

I have to admit I’m a little excited myself. I know it will be amazing for her. There are so many things for her to explore there. The databases we have access to - I don’t know how much you remember of it all. We didn’t exactly watch movies when we were there, but I had a look through while I was looking after Roan. This time we should be able to actually watch one. Put that big presentation room to use. 

We think the irrigation channels will work out there too to fill the tanks. I can’t imagine it doesn’t rain there. We won’t know for sure until we get there, but it should. Then we can rig up some new gutters so that the next time we go we’ll have water and we can progressively stock some food out there. At least enough to survive for a while if we need to. Or if we need access to the lab. I don’t want to be a pessimist or say that everything’s gonna go to shit - but I’ve learned my lesson. I want to know that there is somewhere I can take Madi if - 

Well, I should go. Roan should have finished packing the Rover now. I’ll call you from the lab tomorrow.”

*~*~*

“I don’t think you’ll be able to convince her to leave this place,” Clarke said looking up at him when he entered the bedroom. “She’s only explored half of the lab and she’s barely stopped. I haven’t even mentioned movies yet.”

“We have time before we need to return,” Roan said in response, drinking in the picture she made laying relaxed on the large bed that he remembered well from the last time they were here. The mattress was impossibly soft, the sheets more so, yet neither came close to the skin of the woman laying atop it. 

“Stop,” she smiled at him, eyes darkening as she caught the path of his thoughts. “She’s still awake.” 

“She knows where she’s sleeping,” he licked his lips, satisfied when Clarke’s eyes immediately dropped. He leaned back and closed the door behind him. “She also knows where to find us.” 

“But this place is huge,” she argued unconvincingly with a smile, shifting further up on the bed. “She might get scared.”

“She won’t,” he shook his head, reaching down to the fastenings of his jacket. As much as he loved the village, and their life there, he was looking forward to a couple of nights where their sleeping space was far removed from Madi to see what sort of sweet sounds he could coax from the blonde. He knew the girl well enough to be certain that they wouldn’t see Madi until morning to break their fast. She was looking forward to her own time to be free to explore somewhere Clarke deemed safe enough to be left wholly unattended. 

“You sound very certain,” she said, lips curled up, eyes darkening as he set one knee on the soft mattress, memories and fantasies mixing and merging in his mind. 

He’d had her in a bed like this once before, the memory of which he’d kept safe for a long time, revisited more often than he’d admit to himself. Since their relationship had evolved he’d not needed the memory as much, but now, faced with a similar setting he found himself returning to the night when she’d been so broken and raw and wanted to replace it with something more. Something warm where she wore a lazy, satisfied smile as his fingers trailed the silken length of her skin. 

“I am,” he said, shifting to take off his boots before crawling up the bed to settle on his elbows above her. “As certain as I am that it will rain tonight and we will know if the gutters we installed will fill the tank as you believe.”

This earned him a laugh and the smile that stretched her mouth as wide as it would reach, her eyes closed as her hands settled on his shoulders. When she opened her eyes only to roll them at him, he ducked down to kiss her before she gave him some form of a smart reply, teasing her with soft nips and licks until she melted below him. 

“You can’t distract me that easily,” she murmured when he left her mouth to run his lips over the gentle curve of her jaw and down the smooth expanse of her throat. He could tell by the tightening of her fingers on his biceps that he was distracting her well enough as he sucked softly on a patch of skin at the top of her collarbone. 

“Then I’ll just have to try harder,” his smile was hidden against her skin as he pressed his hips against hers making her groan. 

“That was terrible,” she said, eyes sparkling down at him. “We called those ‘dad jokes’ on the Ark. The kind of horrible jokes dads would make to embarrass their kids.” 

He pushed away his own discomfort at her words, knowing she meant nothing by them but to portray her amusement. He’d not had a lighthearted father who joked with him. Sure, nontu had been affectionate with his children in a way that Nia never had been, but there was never time for warmth and jokes in Azgeda. Not in his family at least. But he hoped Clarke had shared those moments with her own father and perhaps he could one day be allowed the privilege of teasing Madi in the same fashion. He startled out of his thoughts when Clarke’s hand cupped his cheek, his eyes moving up to meet hers. 

“Where did you go?” Clarke asked, her fingertips soft against the scar that framed his left eye. 

“Nowhere,” he shook his head, sliding his hands up and under her shirt. He wanted this more than he wanted to share his thoughts with her and judging by the softness in her eyes, Clarke knew well enough not to push. 

“If it does rain,” she said, her index finger moving to trace his lips, her eyes dropping to the task. “We could stay here longer.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Roan asked, catching the tip of her finger when she made another pass and sucked it into his mouth. Her lips parted with a sharp inhale, her pupils dilating and darkening her eyes. 

“I have to admit the showers here are amazing,” she murmured, a teasing edge to her words. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to share one.”

“That so?” He grinned, lowering his lips to her skin as he pushed her shirt up and over her breasts. He couldn’t wait to worship her properly. “And who did you dream of sharing one with?”

“If you have to ask that you haven’t been paying attention,” she teased, moving to tug her shirt over her head and tossing it away from the bed. The thinner shirt below it soon followed, as well as her undergarments, revealing her torso to him in all its glory. 

“I believe I’ve told you before, niron,” he murmured as he captured one nipple between his fingertips and gave it a sharp tug just hard enough to earn him a gasp. “I’m always paying attention to you.”

He lowered his lips to the other nipple, laving the peak slowly as his fingers moved over the other. Clarke’s breasts were gloriously sensitive and he loved spending time giving them proper attention as he planned to tonight. He alternated between the two, palming them both until she was writhing anxiously below him, her hips moving restlessly against his own. 

“Please,” she whispered as her hands tugged on the material of his shirt. “I want you.”

“I know,” he smirked as he raised himself high enough to tug his own shirt off before lowering himself down once more, pressing kisses into the soft skin of her belly. He’d never get tired of her skin, of how soft it was against his hands. How strong she was below it all, but still so incredibly soft and delicate. Her physicality so like her personality in its duality and he thrilled at being one of the few in her life that got to see all the different parts that made the whole of Clarke Griffin. 

“I want to hear how much,” he said as he sat back on his haunches to tug her trousers and underwear off her legs, leaving her naked before him. He pressed one palm against his cock, squeezing it briefly to relieve some of the pressure. Clarke kept her eyes on his hands so he slowly unlaced the bindings, slipping one inside to touch himself. She bit her lip as he moved his hand up and down, still hidden from direct view. She was glorious in her openness like this. Never shying away from showing him how much she desired this between them. How much she wanted him. It made him feel equal parts powerful and weak, left completely at her mercy. 

“Think you can make me scream?” Clarke teased, cupping her breasts as she hooked her legs around his hips to encourage him to lay back down on top of her. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer and I know it’s been too long since we’ve even had the freedom to take our time, but I want you. Inside of me. Now.”

“No,” he shook his head, grabbing her knees as he lowered himself down between them. She let out a frustrated huff and he was certain she would have argued if he hadn’t immediately sucked her clit into his mouth, turning any waiting words into a soft moan. 

He watched her face as he worked his mouth over her sex, exploring the folds and valleys that he’d come to know well, sucking and nipping at her clit until the hand she’d buried in his hair was pulling hard and her thighs were shaking. Her chest had flushed a dark red, another curious reminder of the difference that now lay beneath their skin. What had allowed them to survive. Instead of allowing himself to lose himself to contemplation once more he applied himself to his task, curling two fingers inside her wet heat and picking up the pace. Clarke was whimpering helplessly as he held her just shy of the edge of completion.

“Beja,” she pleaded with him. “I can’t -”

“Scream for me,” Roan said, watching her face closely, her eyes opening and locking on his. “Then I’ll let you fall apart.”

“Not,” she panted. “How. It works.”

“I can keep you here as long as I want you,” he smiled, kissing the inside of her knee and increasing the motion of his fingers just enough to get her panting heavily. “Scream for me.”

“Please, Roan,” she begged, her voice rising a little in her desperation. “Please!”

“As you wish,” he said and lowered his mouth to her curls once more, sucking hard on her clit and drawing a loud moan from her as she tightened around his fingers. He smiled against her wet flesh, not even close to finished with her yet. 

*~*~*

“You are too good at that,” Clarke smiled as she caught her breath, raising the arm she’d thrown over her face to look down at Roan who seemed content to linger between her legs. Her body was tingling from her orgasm, her skin still prickling with anticipation. At her words he smiled, a playfulness in his eyes she loved dearly. 

“Not good enough,” he cocked an eyebrow at her, kissing her below her belly button before rising up onto his knees. 

Clarke let her eyes linger on his body, taking the time to appreciate every dip of muscle, every scar, every mole on his skin. It still amazed her how much detail there was to discover on his body, how much of him she had to explore even if he’d never tell her every story written on it. But what he  _ had _ told her. The battles, the conclave, the training exercises, the times he faced both life and death and its consequences. Every one of them made her appreciate that he was here with her now even more. 

She let her mind drift on, lost in hazy musings and was almost surprised when he pressed himself against her, naked as she. 

“Shall I take that as agreement?” he murmured next to her ear, kissing her softly below the lobe. The simple intimacy made her shiver against him, her breath catching in her throat.

“I’m too used to being quiet,” she whispered back, running her hands over the skin of his back, savouring his shiver at the sensation. She loved touching his scars, it was one of the most intimate experiences she shared with him. That he let her close enough to touch a part of him so valuable to him was humbling. Especially after everything they’d been through. 

“Then I have to make you forget,” he rumbled, catching her earlobe between his teeth and giving a playful tug. Clarke couldn’t think of a retort as he pushed himself inside of her, rocking gently and slowly, knowing that she’d be sensitive after such a powerful release. 

Roan groaned low in his chest as he withdrew, apparently set on not being quiet himself. Clarke certainly didn’t mind. She found herself too often forcing her face into her pillow or the furs to silence her cries. Closing her eyes to better feel him move within her she allowed herself a low moan of appreciation, the gentle slide of his skin against hers. 

“Krie meizen,” (so beautiful) Roan whispered, getting her attention as Clarke opened her eyes to find his locked on her face. His expression was soft and open and it was almost enough to make her slow to appreciate the moment. The way his dark hair fell forward, just skating over her collarbone, framing his face and softening the angles that she’d come to know as well as her own. 

“So are you,” she smiled, her fingertips tracing the scar that highlighted the high arch of his cheekbone. His eyes flickered at the compliment, shuttering enough to make her wish she’d stayed silent. Instead she tightened her legs around his hips, angling herself to allow him to slide deeper. He exhaled heavily, his hands sliding down under her waist as he rose to her challenge. His eyes had cleared again when he fixed them on her once more, a glitter of challenge in their blue depths. 

“Trying to distract me?” he asked, using his hands to raise her hips just enough to make her gasp. 

“From trying to make me scream?” She teased, gasping again when he thrust deep. “Sounds counterproductive.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, fingers tightening around her hips. Her comment had teased a lazy grin from him and she arched her back, cupping her breasts the way she knew he liked. He cocked a brow at the action, shifting back and slipping out of her to Clarke’s dismay. 

“Turn over,” he said, hands helping her comply. 

Clarke didn’t always love the edge his voice took on when he expected compliance. When he became less Roan and more Azhefa. But in bed it made her whimper and lean into his touch, anticipating his next instruction. His hands were warm and rough against the skin of her spine as she stretched out on all fours, giving him a delectable view of her body. She may not be vain, but she knew how to entice a reaction. 

“Jok,” he huffed as if on cue. “Do that again.”

“What?” she asked innocently as she glanced over her shoulder, tossing her blonde curls out of the way and arching her back. “This?”

“Tease,” he rumbled, cutting off any retort as he thrust inside her in one firm stroke. Clarke moaned at being filled again, her hands fisting in the sheets. 

He started moving in earnest then, strokes firm and strong. Clarke looked over her shoulder once more, wanting to see him, see his face as he took his pleasure in her. His eyes were dark and intent when he noticed her attention, a dangerous edge to the grin playing on his lips. She bit her own, knowing how much he enjoyed kissing her, teasing him in return. 

“Maybe I should blindfold you,” he said, pressing gently between her shoulder blades to lower her chest to the bed. It made him sink deeper, hitting a spot inside her that made her whimper loudly. 

“I want to see you,” she insisted, closing her eyes as her pleasure built. Instead of the constant push and pull towards the edge he’d teased her with before, this build up was slow and molten, rising from the base of her spine, making her moan softly. 

“No,” she whimpered when he pulled away from her once more, blinking at the sudden loss of him. 

“Come here,” he said, running gentle hands up her back to help her turn over. 

“But-” she argued even as she got on her knees and straddled his lap. She didn’t bother to find any words as his hands settled on her hips, guiding her down onto his cock once again. Clarke slid her hands over his shoulders, pressing her upper body against his as he encouraged her to start undulating slowly against him. It didn’t take long for the heat to build again inside her, coiling and writing beneath her skin. 

“I want to see you too,” Roan said, his eyes endless and fixed on hers. “And hear you.”

Clarke smiled as she leaned forward to kiss him deeply, hands fisting in his hair to hold him close. The grip on her hip would be enough to leave bruises in the morning but what finally made her pull away to cry out her release loudly was the hand he’d slipped between their bodies. As she panted against him he found his own release inside of her with a satisfied groan, forehead pressed against her shoulder. 

“It seems you succeeded,” Clarke smiled against his throat as she pressed lazy kisses against his heated skin, the soft scrape of his stubble abrading her lips just enough to make them tingle. 

“Did you doubt me?” he asked, a bit of his cocky swagger in his tone. His hands were making long, soothing sweeps up her spine. One hand settled at the base of her skull, encouraging her to meet him for a kiss. 

“Never,” she whispered against his lips. She slowly explored his mouth, savouring the warm slide of his tongue as her body relaxed and her heart returned to its normal rhythm. She loved this part of their lovemaking. The slow moments that came after, when he was even more affectionate than he had become since their relationship changed. The moments where he told her how much he cared for her the only way he could. 

“Shower?” Roan asked when he’d had his fill of her skin for the moment and Clarke pulled back to look at him with a small grin. 

“Planning on indulging my fantasy?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair. 

“Once you tell me what it is, yes,” he agreed without hesitation. “I’ll not deny you.”

“Only when you want me to scream for you,” she pointed out as she reluctantly climbed off his lap, holding out a hand to him. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.”

“Not what I imagined,” he murmured as he rose beside her, pulling her in close to wrap his arms around her and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She closed her eyes against the sting behind her lips, not trusting her voice as she led him through to the small attached ensuite and proceeded to show him exactly what she's fantasized about doing to him under the hot spray. They would really need it to rain now if they wanted to extend this family getaway to Becca’s Island. 

*~*~*

Roan blinked slowly into the dim light, a sense of familiarity and confusion washing over him as he remembered where he was. Clarke was wrapped in his arms, one of his legs between hers, the familiar warm scent of her skin surrounding them in a bed that was too soft. He frowned when he heard rustling, alarm giving way almost immediately knowing that the only other person in the bunker was Madi. He’d blocked the entrance to ensure there wouldn’t be any surprises, years of paranoia making him vigilant even when they knew they were the only people left on the surface. 

“Strikon?” (little one) he said softly, glancing over his shoulder to find the door he’d closed the night before open. 

“The beds are strange,” Madi said, appearing at the foot of the bed he and Clarke shared, making a smile bloom over his face. 

“Too soft?” he asked, rubbing his free hand over his face and tugging on the blanket so it covered Clarke a little more. She was still sensitive about nudity around Madi and though he tried to understand her concern, it was not something his people had considered as taboo as Skaikru obviously did. 

“Yes,” Madi agreed, looking at him, her lips turned down in a small pout. He knew what she wanted and shifted over, soothing Clarke as she started to stir into wakefulness as he made room for Madi to lay beside him. She was wrapped in the blanket from her own bed and he wondered how long she’d been in with them. 

“Where did you sleep?” he asked, eyes straying to the blonde as she turned in his arms, still drowsy as she yawned and burrowed closer. 

“I came in here when I woke up,” Madi said wrinkling her nose. “You were asleep.”

“That doesn’t tell me where you slept,” he said with a pointed look at her. 

“There,” she pointed to the floor next to Clarke’s side of the bed and he sighed but was amused by the little wildling. 

“Nightmares?” Clarke’s voice was hoarse with sleep and concern so he slid the arm he had around her into a more comfortable position and held her close. 

“No,” Madi shook her head. “What are we doing today?”

“Checking the tanks,” Roan answered, knowing Clarke wanted to pursue the idea of night time terrors but he suspected her appearance had been adjustment to the new surroundings. After so many months sleeping beside Clarke, she would miss the comfort of another person closer. “And Clarke had promised a surprise.”

“Really?” The girl asked, sitting up in her mound of blankets, dark hair spilling out in all directions. “What?”

“If I tell you it won’t be a surprise,” Clarke smiled, settling against him to his relief. “Is there anything else you want to explore here?”

“Everything,” Madi’s smile was bright and wide, her eyes glowing with her excitement. “I want to read more too.”

“As long as you don’t touch anything without asking us first you can explore the whole lab,” Clarke said to Madi’s obvious delight as she bounced a little on the bed. “After breakfast.”

The excitement in the girl’s eyes dulled a little, but not entirely. She was a curious child, wanting to learn as much as she could from both of them. She’d taken to training with him like only a true nightblood could and if she kept her discipline and enthusiasm she’d be better than both Lexa and Luna at their best. She could be  _ the _ best if she wished to be. Perhaps if Clarke allowed her to be. The woman wanted to coddle the girl, fill her life with softness that his own childhood had lacked. She taught Madi songs and games Clarke had learned growing up and read to her every day without fail. In Azgeda a childhood like Madi’s would not be allowed and he wondered if any other clan would have had the resources to raise children in such a way. Madi worked hard and helped with the tasks required of her around the village, but did so with joy and enthusiasm for her duty unlike any he’d seen before in a child. 

Madi hopped off the bed, her blanket firmly pulled around her shoulders, and wandered out of the bedroom alerting him to some plan being set in motion. He looked down at Clarke to find her watching him with a softly amused smile.

“What were you thinking about?” she asked, sliding her leg between his and it took all of his energy not to grip her hips and continue her slide to straddle him instead. 

“Nothing of note,” he said but she looked unconvinced. “Where is she going?”

“You’d know if you were thinking of noteworthy things,” she said. He huffed and looked away from her, reaching down to pinch her bottom in retaliation for her tease. She laughed and squirmed against him, making his cock rise in hope of attention. 

“Breakfast?” Roan asked, shifting onto his side and pulling her close. Clarke pressed up against his chest, hooking a leg around his hips. 

“Are you asking or offering?” she whispered as she pressed a kiss against his lips. “Because I could definitely go for something right now.”

“Don’t think that would help you break your fast,” he rumbled in her ear between slow, languid kisses. 

“Maybe not in the traditional sense,” she giggled as he pressed kisses against her throat, deliberately letting his beard scrape a little against her soft skin. “I told Madi we’d be a few more minutes.”

“Then let's make ‘em count,” he said, kissing her deeply as he positioned himself at her entrance and sunk into her waiting heat as he raised himself over her. 

He kept his movements slow and languid like their kisses, her hands on his shoulders and the scarwork on his back making him shiver. Clarke moaned quietly when he sucked a small mark under her ear, arching into him and tightening her legs around his hips. It wouldn’t take her long to fall apart, Roan knew all it would take was a change of angle and light fingers on her clit and then she’d be strangling his cock until he joined her. 

“More,” she whispered against his ear, and he bit softly down on her throat in response. He thrust harder, deeper, hooking an arm under her knee to open her up further for him. He groaned as he settled into her, her own hips seamlessly joining the rhythm he set for them. 

“Clarke,” he whispered, fearful he’d lose himself before she found her completion as she gripped his ass to bring him down harder. He forced his mind to the rain water tanks, what he needed to check as her breathing picked up, small whimpering sighs escaping her lips. He slipped his free hand between them, pressing his fingers against her clit and feeling her muscles clamp down hard around him in response. In a handful of strokes she was rippling around him as she cried out and he joined her only moments later, pressing his face against her throat. 

“Just stay for a moment,” Clarke whispered, her hands cradling his head and torso against herself and Roan was too deeply satisfied to do more than settle in, taking just a little of his weight off of her. Her fingers carded through his hair, sending delightful shivers down his spine from the contact of her nails and the gentle scrape of them on his scalp. Sometimes he wondered if this was what the Spirits rewarded you with. The warmth of a caring and gentle embrace, the soft beat of her heart against his lips as his body remained joined with hers. He wondered if this was perfection. The moments like these. And inevitably what he’d done to earn them when all he’d managed to do was fail his people. 

“Stay with me,” Clarke murmured, one hand tracing one of the wings on his back. “Please, just a little while.”

“I’m here,” he rumbled, but he consciously made his muscles relax against her. “I’m always with you Clarke.”

“Until you get lost in that head of yours,” she argued, tightening her hands when he made to move and held fast until he stayed where he was. “A moment more. Stay with me.”

He exhaled, shifting to hold her on his side so he can look at her, wanting to see the softness in her eyes. To sink into her in every aspect. Her eyes were so blue, endless and soft like the summer sky he loved dearly as a boy. When winter wasn’t heavy on his family, his people starving and freezing, fighting for scraps. When they were free to run a while in the vast woods of Azgeda, chasing game through the underbrush, learning to stalk like cats until their prey was in sight. The few moments of freedom from the burden of being a future king. That was what Clarke’s eyes always reminded him of. He cupped her cheek, her skin still impossibly soft even with the darker shade it had taken after being exposed to sun so often during the day. 

“You are very beautiful,” he heard himself tell her before he managed to keep his foolish thoughts to himself and watched a smile bloom over her face, her eyes lightening a shade. He hoped he didn’t look as abashed as he felt, but enjoyed the sweet kiss she pressed against his lips. 

“I’d tell you the same, but I know better,” she grinned, softening the sting of her words and complimenting him either way. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him. Skaikru men were so much softer than he, less worn and weathered by the world. But the way she smiled at him made something shift inside his heart, healing a part of him he’d long ago given up. 

“Madi will come looking for us soon,” he said reluctantly, enjoying the knowing look in her eyes as he deflected. Maybe it was time to set aside his worries. At least until the world caught up with them once more. As it inevitably would. 

*~*~*

“I don’t think I ever appreciated just how  _ huge _ this place is. I realise every other time I’ve been here it’s because the world was ending or  _ had _ just ended or we needed to find a way to survive. I guess exploration was out then, but this place is amazing. I’m sure you’re shaking your head Rae, because I’m sure you  _ did _ explore. And you too, Murphy. Madi has been in every room, every closet, found things I had no idea were here. A whole room full of hydroponic farm equipment. It’s obviously been made to be a sustainable bunker to live in. And I guess we could if we wanted to. Maybe Roan and I should have looked through things better when we were here - 

But then we wouldn’t have Madi. Or the village. 

We’ll be going home in a couple of days. We decided this morning. Tonight we’re having movie night. I found some Disney films I think Madi will adore. It’ll be unlike anything she’s seen before. And then I’ve picked out one of the ridiculous old action movies we used to talk about with the delinquents. The ones that were all about surviving nuclear war. See if Roan’s impressed. Maybe I should pull out Gladiator and see if he thinks he could take down Maximus? The options are endless. Needless to say we’ll be back. And probably spend all of tomorrow in the study.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I meant to post earlier but real life got really busy. Hope you enjoy!

“Will we be celebrating the winter solstice this year?” Madi asked, looking up from the book spread open before her. Roan was surprised at the question and made the calculation in his head, realising the festival would be coming up soon. He knew Clarke kept track of the days in her daily radio calls, but he’d let time slip past more easily than he ever had before and had almost forgotten the celebratory season. 

“If you wish, little one,” he smiled softly down at Madi. “What would you like to do?”

“We used to have a large feast,” the girl said, looking out the window of the longhouse at the falling snow. “Exchange gifts. Give thanks and blessings.”

“We can arrange something,” Roan agreed, acknowledging that he had thanks and blessings to give this year and perhaps he should honour the traditions set out for him as a child. If there was ever a time in his life to give thanks to the Spirits, it was now. 

“How long until the solstice?” Madi asked, looking over at him. “We can’t go to Polis.”

“What do you need at Polis?” Roan wondered, leaning back in his chair, knowing that it was likely she was in need of a break from her studies. 

“If we were very good, nontu would go to Polis before the festival and find us something,” Madi explained quietly, looking down at her hands. “He’d get something special for nomon.”

“We can make something,” he said watching her closely, guessing at her conflict. “I have a few things hidden away you can look through.”

“Why?” Madi’s curiosity was back, a small smile on her face. 

“Because,” he cocked an eyebrow at her in amusement. “We’ll make something for Clarke.”

“But I want to make something for you too,” she argued, looking over to where Clarke was reading by the warmth of the fire. 

“Then you can ask Clarke for help,” he pointed out, rising from the table. “Do you wish to go now?”

“Yes!” She bounced happily from her seat rushing to where her winter cloak had been thrown over a chair near the fire. “You have to stay here, Clarke!”

“Okay?” Clarke smiled, looking confused as she glanced between them.

“A surprise,” Roan shrugged a shoulder at her, grabbing his own cloak. “We’ll be back shortly.”

“With a better explanation?” Clarke asked, but still looked amused. 

“Yes,” he smiled softly as he fastened his cloak, catching the dip of her eyes as she watched him. Her obvious perusal made him feel warm and the smile grew into a smirk as he joined Madi outside. 

*~*~*

Roan looked out over the slowly running water, his breath coming in billowing clouds before him. He hadn’t considered this ceremony in years. Not since before he was banished. Not since he had lost everything and regained even more. He sighed, feeling the weight of the last six or so years heavy on his shoulders. But that was the point. Leave the burdens of the past in the icy water to emerge with new purpose, grateful for the turning of the new year, of the waning winter months where darkness lessened and light returned. 

After so many years of solitude, light had returned to his life in the form of a blonde warrior who fell from the sky and a little mischievous brunette they’d found in the woods. He’d never imagined himself as a father. His life hadn’t permitted him to. Not in the way he would have wanted to be one, given the opportunity. But now he had Madi whom he would never abandon. She had found a place deep under his skin and settled there, becoming a part of him the way that his sister had the day she’d been born. Family.

And Clarke. Clarke filled him with warmth he didn’t think himself capable of. Never imagined himself capable of. Simply having her close relaxed him, sleeping beside her kept the worst of his nightmares away. No more empty rooms or dark caves to lose himself in, waking up shaking from exhaustion and panic that had no source outside of his own mind. He hoped he gave her some of the same comfort. Though some nights he was woken by the twitching of her limbs and her frantic moans as she battled her own demons. 

He had given a lot of time to the question of love. What love meant to him. What it was. What it wasn’t. 

It wasn't a weakness. Not like Nia had wanted him to believe. The love Clarke held for Madi, the reassuring words she spoke, the way she made the girl bloom under her gentle care spoke of the power of love. The way she looked at him was not a weakness. It was the same determination she showed in everything she did. And he knew well what she could accomplish when she set her mind to it. Love gave Clarke power, strength and joy. He was starting to see that maybe it was doing the same for him. 

He loved Clarke. He felt her a part of his own body and soul in a way he hadn’t experienced before. He’d had a similar connection with Nix, the strength of the bond, but obviously different. Clarke understood him. Let him give as much of himself as he was able and didn’t force him to be more than he could be or wanted to be. He wanted to be  _ more _ for her. To be worthy of her love. 

He loved Madi too. The same deep, abiding affection he held for Aeir. Admiration for the woman she would one day become. Hope that she would allow him a part in her journey. A need to protect her and guide her. He saw himself as the father he wished he would be with her. 

“Planning on jumping in?” Clarke’s voice startled him, so lost in his thoughts he hadn't heard her approach. He looked over to find her wrapped in a thick fur cloak, snowflakes sticking to her hair. 

“Yes,” he frowned at the water before returning to catch the surprise in her eyes. “It’s part of our solstice celebrations in Azgeda.”

“Really?” She sounded incredulous, looking at the snow falling around them. “It’s freezing!”

“Yes, that is part of it,” he smiled at the water. “Though it’s been years since I’ve taken part.”

“I feel I must repeat myself,” Clarke said, a warm smile in her voice. “It’s freezing.”

“Yes,” he agreed, amused. “It is.”

“And you would swim in that why?” she asked, looking skeptically at the water.

“To appreciate the life we have been given,” he recited the words from memory. “To prove that we are strong enough to survive the elements. To give thanks for what we have and let go of what we’ve suffered.” 

“That’s quite the tradition,” her voice was softer than before, responding to the weight of his. “And you just jump in?”

Roan smiled out at the water. She sounded doubtful and more than a little alarmed at the idea. He knew her mind would be sorting through all the possible things that could befall him. How sick he could get, the cold, the snow. What would happen if he succumbed to the shock of hitting the water and drowned. Her mind was something spectacular when presented with a problem. 

“After some reflection, yes,” he agreed, finally looking at her. “I have much to be thankful for. It is time to honour the Spirits for what they have given me.”

“Can I do it, too?” she asked, squaring her shoulders. “I have plenty to be thankful for.”

“If you wish,” he said softly, taking her hand. It warmed him to have her there with him, wanting to take part in his traditions.

“Me too?” Madi piped up, alerting him to her presence as well. He couldn’t keep his smile down at their enthusiasm even as Clarke inhaled sharply. 

“Madi-” the blonde started. “I don’t-”

“If she wishes, she may give thanks,” Roan interrupted her. “She need not submerge herself. As children we waded into the water to our knees until we were ten, our waist until we saw fifteen winters.”

“And there’s a fire,” Madi pointed to the small fire he’d already started, an area set apart to warm and dry himself after. “Please, Clarke.” 

“If you want to,” Clarke was obviously reluctant to agree, but was finally starting to understand when to trust the girl. She inhaled deeply, turning her face up to Roan. “How do we begin?”

“Reflect on what you’ve been given,” he said, cupping her cheek and focusing on the softness in her eyes, allowing it to fill his heart. “Hold the good in your mind and appreciate it coming into your life, allow it to be your reason for participating today and what lights the fire that drives you. Your failures, suffering, mistakes; let them be the last thing you think of before you enter the water. The shock of the cold will drive them from your mind and your life.”

“That’s beautiful,” Clarke whispered. 

He’d recited more of the ceremony from memory, etched into the great rooms of his mind of the traditions his people held close. Some easy and invigorating like this one, some violent and bloody like the marks that spanned his back. All had some element of strength and power over oneself at their heart. It was what made Azgeda strong. The power of control over your own emotions kept you alive in battle and in life. It was the hardest habit to break, even for Clarke who he knew would love to see him splinter and let go. But that was something he wasn’t certain he was ever going to be capable of. 

“It is,” he agreed, pulling himself back into this moment. Focussing on what he needed to do. He looked to Madi and asked, “Ready?”

“Yes,” she smiled nervously before looking at Clarke. “I’ll go down to the flat rocks and wade in.”

“Be careful,” Clarke frowned at the girl before looking at him. “Do we all do it at the same time?”

“It is customary to do it in some solitude,” he said, catching her alarm. “But we can all do it at the same time. Go to the shallow drop off and leave your cloak near the edge. I’ll stay here and swim to you.”

“Good grief,” she shook her head, making him chuckle as he unclasped his cloak and giving her the heavy garment. He’d want it shortly after exiting the water, no matter how accustomed to cold he was now, it was nothing compared to the temperature of the water. He remembered that well. He knelt down before Madi catching her gaze and holding her eyes.

“Give thanks,” he repeated his instructions. “Hold your grief in your mind as you enter the water and let it go. I am here with you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before she wrapped her arms around him in a hug. “Ai hod yu in, strikon,” he whispered against her ear, feeling her arms tighten. “Thank you for joining me today.”

“Me too,” Madi whispered back, pulling away before kissing Clarke on the cheek and disappearing down the slope to where she could wade into the shallow water. 

“Thank you for joining me, niron,” he addressed Clarke next, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and feeling hers turn up in a smile. 

“I’ll say you’re welcome now because after I go in there I may not feel quite so happy to do so,” she laughed softly, and he smiled down at her, moving his hands to unclasp his jacket, shooing her away to her entry point. He’d be impressed if she managed the task but didn’t doubt she would. 

Roan turned his thoughts to reciting his gratitudes as he undressed, keeping an ear out for any sound from Madi. Once he had finished he allowed the darker corners of his mind flow open, the pain, the betrayals, the failures he’d suffered over the most recent years spilling through and weighing him down. His chest hurt under the weight of it all, but he straightened his spine before leaping out into the air, time slowing for a moment before he plunged into the freezing water. His body reacted instantly, his mind going blank for a blissful moment, lungs seizing as he sunk down below the surface. He revelled in the silence, the emptiness, the nothingness for as long as he could manage before he forced his limbs into painful motion. He broke the surface, inhaling deep, the air above the water now warm instead of biting. 

“Holy shit,” he heard Clarke exclaim and smiled despite where he found himself. He turned his body towards the rock ledge and powered through the water, seeing the blonde emerge from her own dip, dripping and shaking as she scurried for the cloaks. 

A couple of painful strokes through the water had him setting a hand against the rock, feet catching the flat edge and propelling him out of the water.

“Cold doesn’t begin to describe that,” Clarke’s teeth were chattering as she held his cloak out to him, her lips a light shade of blue. 

“I am proud of you, Wanheda,” he said, throwing his cloak around his shoulders before he pulled on a wet lock of hair. “You would make a fine Azgeda warrior.”

“Think they’d have me?” she asked, something hidden in his blue eyes. He opened the front of his cloak for her, pulling her against his still wet skin with a mischievous smirk. 

“I’d not share you with them,” he rumbled softly, slipping his hands under her cloak to expose her skin to his, ignoring the strong pull of arousal in his body as she melted against him. 

“Is Madi-” Clarke’s voice muffled against the furs. 

“Here!” the girl cried, running up to the pair, apparently not bothered by the cold. It made the warmth in Roan’s chest expand until it felt like he would succumb to its heat, proud of his girls and the tenacity that they both approached every challenge set for them. They would both do well in Azgeda. A thought that once would have terrified him now made him stand tall, holding Clarke close as they moved to warm up before the fire. It was the best solstice celebration he’d ever had. 

*~*~*

Clarke smiled as Madi danced around the small bonfire they had lit in the centre of town, moving to the music they’d rigged to work from the Rover. There was so much joy in this moment. She held her cup of tea close, still feeling the after effects of her ice bath but Roan had been right. It had been a rejuvenating experience for more than one reason. She felt lighter than she had in years. Letting go of some of the pain of her past so she could enjoy these next years with Roan and Madi. No pressure to do anything but be. 

“Are you going to join her?” Roan asked, returning to sit beside her in the warmth of the fire, a fresh cup of tea in his hands. 

“No,” Clarke smiled as she shook her head at him. “She’s happy on her own.”

“I wish she had others,” Roan said candidly, frowning at the girl. Clarke was surprised by his statement, moving her eyes to Madi who was now spinning wildly, arms above her head, a wide smile on her face.

“She will one day,” Clarke said softly. “For now she’s happy.”

Roan hummed and Clarke shifted closer, nudging his arm until he raised it so she could tuck herself against his side. He always made a show of looking annoyed at her inconvenient need to cuddle, but something relaxed in his muscles much better than before when she did. 

“It is still a long time before they come,” Roan mused and Clarke drew herself even closer to his side. He let out a sigh, but held her closer all the same. 

“What are you worried about?” she asked, hoping for an answer.

“Many things,” he replied after a short silence. “What will happen once the others come. What a child growing up alone must feel. How we can be enough.”

“Firstly,” Clarke said as she straightened so she could look him in the eye. “We are enough. We are something. If we weren’t here she’d have nothing. And that would have been too horrible to think about.”

Roan’s eyes tracked over to Madi, a softness there despite the worry. He loved the girl deeply, Clarke knew that well. It was why he had these worries.

“And for the rest,” she continued, relieved when he looked at her again like he valued her opinion. “Those are things we’ll work out when they happen. We can only hope we’ll be able to open the bunker, but I’m sure that Raven will figure it out. And if not right away, she’ll have the time living here with us to do so. And once we do that, then we’ll see how the survivors in the bunker fared. There are a lot of things that can go wrong for them. But hopefully they will have found a way to come together. To survive together.”

“And if they haven’t?” Roan asked, the thought more chilling than Clarke would like to admit. 

“Then we deal with that when we come to it,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “We just don’t know. And it’s hopeless to try and figure it out.”

“Very rational of you, Wanheda,” Roan grumbled, looking a little impressed but equally irritated. It was an expression that made her smile brightly and lean in close to kiss his cheek. He exhaled sharply through his nose at her affection, so she kissed him again and again until she reached the corner of his mouth. By that time he’d released the last of his irritation and grabbed the base of her skull, holding her close and giving her a deep, sensual kiss as thanks. 

Clarke smiled at him when she pulled back, her heart pounding in her chest at the hope of exploring more with him as soon as Madi was asleep. The slow darkening of his eyes and quirk of his lips was a promise she’d learn to collect on. 

“Clarke!” Madi called. “Come dance!”

“I think you should,” Roan rumbled, hand slipping under her cloak to grab her hip. 

“Because you want me to dance for you?” she teased as she rose. 

“Because Madi will exhaust herself and go to bed early,” he grinned a little playfully, making her laugh as she turned to join the joyful child dancing to music still new to her. 

Madi kept Clarke on her feet and a smile on her face as the stars twinkled overhead. Once the wind had become biting they moved inside and it wasn’t long before the young girl was yawning and nodding off against Roan’s shoulder. 

“Time to sleep, strikon,” Roan whispered even as Madi objected sleepily. “I’ll tell you of the time I went hunting with my brother and we were chased by a bear.”

“A bear?” Madi asked, some light returning to her eyes even as she stumbled as she moved towards her side of the longhouse. 

“A great bear,” Roan said, with a glance at Clarke who was equally intrigued at the offer. Roan still only rarely spoke of his own people and even less frequently about his own life. The look in his eyes invited her along and it took everything in her to look over at Madi.

“Brush your teeth and change,” Clarke said. “I’ll go ready your bed.”

“Okay,” Madi said, and Clarke could tell by the continued stumble in her step that she’d be asleep before the end of the story. 

Clarke moved to Madi’s bed as Roan picked up the pieces of the game the two of them had been playing before the girl chose to cuddle into his side instead. Clarke rearranged the big fur blanket that kept the winter chill out and replaced one of their stolen pillows from the lab back into place. The girl was not a quiet sleeper, kicking and rolling around, making a mess of her bed every night. 

“Was expecting more of a reaction,” Roan murmured as he snuck up behind her, hands warm on her hips when she straightened back to her full height. He pulled her back into himself, pressing her ass against his hips as he playfully nipped at the column of her throat. 

“To your bear story?” Clarke asked, digging her fingers into his hair as he continued to press kisses to her skin. He hummed and she closed her eyes as she added. “You haven’t actually told us the story yet.”

“But any time I’ve offered in the past you’ve been more eager to hear it than strik natbleeda,” he chuckled, pulling away as Madi’s steps approached. His eyes shone down at her when she looked over her shoulder, her cheeks warm and pink from his teasing. 

“Well, I have to encourage you to keep telling them,” she arched an eyebrow at him, choosing to ignore the insecurity that flashed briefly in the blue depths. “Besides, a bear story? I want to hear that!”

“Me too!” Madi cried as she bounced onto her bed, quickly crawling into position and giving Clarke an expectant look until she joined her. Roans lips pressed together just before a small smile emerged, his dark hair falling forward to hide his face as he seated himself on Madi’s other side. Clarke took a moment to appreciate the long lean lines of him, the angles of his cheek and jaw as they were revealed once more when he tucked his hair behind his ear. She knew how lucky she was and never tired of looking at him. He was objectively handsome, but it was the life in his eyes that still pulled her in the most. That there was so much more to him. So much left to learn. 

“But you must promise not to laugh,” Roan warned as he leaned back, moving to allow Madi to crawl close to his side. “It is not a story I tell just anyone.”

“I hope not,” Madi agreed, making Clarke burst out laughing. Roan tried, but couldn’t keep his own smile down, shaking his head at the girl and her audacity. 

“It happened when I was thirteen winters,” Roan began and soon fell into a story of his first altercation with the large predators that roamed the forest. A hungry bear who’d decided hibernation wasn’t for him and two young boys more confident than able to take him down. A night spent at the top of a spindly tree, shivering in cold winds before the bear lost interest and an undisclosed punishment for failure from a cold-hearted queen. But the warmth in his eyes and voice when he recalled the unbreakable bond with his brother and the gentleness his father had treated both his sons to the night they returned made Clarke sigh in relief, knowing that at some point, Roan had had someone who cared deeply for him. Someone who looked after him. She only wished she knew when he lost the man who’d had such an obvious influence on the kindness that still filled his heart and the compassion which drove him. 

“She’s asleep,” Roan said after he’d finished, running his fingers through Madi’s dark hair. 

“She has been for a while,” Clarke smiled up at him. 

“I know,” he shook his head, but the crinkling at the corner of his eyes spoke to his amusement. “I’ll stoke and stifle the fire.”

“Exhausted as well?” Clarke teased, licking her lips as she slid from Madi’s bed.

“Not quite,” he acknowledged, refusing to be pulled into her teasing but he dropped a kiss on her lips as he passed by to precede her into the common space. 

Her lips tingled from the brief contact with his and she couldn’t keep her eyes from moving to watch him crouch before the hearth, the tight lines of his back outlined through the shirt he wore. The longhouse was warm now and felt like a haven as the wind whined outside. Clarke wondered if the drifts would grow overnight, confining them indoors until the worst of the weather passed. It seemed this winter was colder than the previous year, the storms lasting longer and producing more snow. 

Roan rose, brushing his hands over his knees as he kept his eyes on the flames, reminding her of her initial destination. Maybe a whole day spent in bed wouldn’t be a hardship. Not with Roan close at hand. Though keeping him cooped up inside generally resulted in restlessness. 

“Sounds worse than before,” he had to raise his voice a little to be heard over a particularly loud whistle of wind as he moved to rinse his hands in the small basin set aside for washing. 

“Good thing we brought all that firewood inside,” Clarke said as she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her forehead against his spine and inhaling deeply. She loved the mixture of smells this close to his skin, the warmth that flushed her belly as she recognised it belonging to something that was  _ hers _ . 

“Think we’ll be snowed in tomorrow?” He covered her hands with his own, pushing them gently down to cradle his hips. Clarke smiled against his back, slipping her fingers up and under the shirt he wore, running her fingers over the ridges of muscle she found there. His skin was warm and smooth and he sucked in a breath, firming the muscles under her fingertips. 

“I hope so,” she whispered as he turned to face her, smiling up at him as he grinned down at her. “I know you hate it, but a day of cuddling inside with you and Madi sounds like heaven.”

“I don’t hate it, niron,” he shook his head and cupped her face in his large warm hands. “Far from it.”

He didn’t give her a chance to respond, dipping down to kiss her playfully before he crouched down to grab her thighs, lifting her up his body and encouraging her to wrap her legs around him. Clarke obliged with a giggle, moving her lips from his to kiss a slow trail down the side of his throat, pausing to rub her cheek against his soft beard. It always surprised her how soft the hair there was when it was so coarse as stubble but she thrilled at the sensations it created against her own cheeks and even more when she’d feel it against the softer skin of her inner thighs. 

“So you’re agreeing to staying in tomorrow?” Clarke asked as he placed her below himself on their bed, taking a moment to look down at her, his eyes soft and happy. 

“If you wish,” he agreed before pulling his shirt off and tossing it to one side, the smooth muscles stretching under his skin. She knew he was trying to distract her, and to his credit, it was working. Clarke’s mind was littered with questions about the story he’d told, about the brother he obviously remembered fondly, about why it bothered him so much to sit still for a day. But before her was a beautiful man who was leaning over her, eyes glittering playfully. Maybe her questions needed to wait a little longer. 

“You win,” Clarke murmured just as he pressed his lips against hers. He chuckled in response, his hands seeking her skin as she wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“I’m sure I’ve only gained a short time,” knowing precisely what she conceded as he nipped at her jaw playfully and efficiently slipped her pyjamas from her body. 

“Not too short,” she laughed as his fingers dug into the skin below her ribs. 

As it turned out he spent a long time distracting her from her curiosities about his past, her body sated and buzzing by the time he wrapped her in his arms, his breathing slowly returning to its regular rhythm. By that time Clarke was fighting off a jaw-cracking yawn, content to leave questions for another day as she burrowed into the warmth of Roan’s body. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry another later than expected post. The good news/bad news is that I may have miscounted on how many chapters there are left. There will be more than 20 I'm just not sure how many more right now...
> 
> I hope everyone is staying safe and enjoy!

“Winter is over for this year. Definitely more of an abrupt end. Suddenly the snow melted and it was warm enough not to worry about extra furs or layers. We’ll see if that means less severe storms this year, though I’m guessing the opposite. The cloud cover seems to be clearing a bit. You can tell more at night.

Remember the night we laid out and looked at the stars Rae? It’s not quite like that, but it’s getting there. Amazing for a whole other reason now. I have started tracking your orbit and I hope to point you out one of these nights to the others. It’s nice to know you’re up there looking over us.”

*~*~*

“We’re back from Farm Station. I doubt you’d have much of a chance of getting those calls so hopefully you didn’t think something happened to us. The storms are worse this year. Much worse. But Roan was determined. I think he just wanted to get it over with. And even if he’d wanted to go further, we didn’t have much choice but to turn back. We had to spend an extra night in the ruins. It’s mainly desert up north now. But there were signs of life already which I tell you, it’s amazing what the planet can do. It doesn’t need us.

It will be years yet before anywhere else is habitable. And there are the worms. And the glass storms. And the giant roaches. I didn’t tell you about those yet, did I?

We saw movement in the sand in front of the Rover and we assumed it was worms, but then there were antennae and fuck! Those things were horrible. Couldn’t do much but they were the size of a crate. Probably a metre long, maybe more. 

If Murphy just pointed out they’ll be a good source of protein, make sure he spends time with Roan. That was his only comment. Madi looked a little green. 

Oh! And yes, just in case you didn’t get my calls earlier, we found some of the seed cache. Not all of it, but there is enough to preserve a few species. Lots of edible crops. We’ll keep it safe until you come. We have enough to eat.

And now an extra protein supply according to the king with the iron stomach.”

*~*~*

“Things are finally cooling down,” Clarke said into the receiver. “Which means that it’s almost time for us to start harvesting again. We’ll be busy for a few weeks but we’ve worked out a better system of drying and preserving the grain so we should have enough to last a couple of years with this harvest. It means we can alternate planting seasons at least until we have more manpower. But this must be incredibly boring to you. I’m just constantly amazed at how much Roan knows about this stuff. More than I had thought.”

Clarke sighed, staring up at the sun as it sank lower in the sky. It was time to head back.

“Well, I guess you’ll know in a couple of years,” she added. “It’s going to be great, I mean the bunker, that’s going to be a problem, but I’m sure Raven will figure it out. I’ll call again tomorrow. Can’t believe we’re in the triple digits these days.”

Clarke hopped off the hood of the Rover and gathered up the basket of herbs she’d been collecting, popping it on the passenger seat before driving back to the village.

“Clarke!” Madi cried when she stepped out, running up to her. “I did it!”

“Did what, sweetheart?” she asked, wrapping her arms around the girl who was already getting too tall for Clarke’s liking. Soon she’d tower over her too.

“I disarmed Roan,” Madi said proudly as they walked back to the village. “He wasn’t even going easy on me.”

“Really?” Clarke said, surprised and proud, looking over to where Roan was sharpening a large scythe. “Congratulations.”

“She got lucky,” Roan grumbled as she walked up to where he sat, keeping her distance until he’d set the large knife down on the ground before she came close and kissed his cheek.

“And that’s not pride in your eyes?” Clarke whispered, face nearly touching his, waiting until his smile broke through despite his best efforts. “Thought so.”

“What did you find?” Roan asked, diverting her attention, one hand settling warmly on her hip.

“Sage,” she said, pulling away even as tempted as she was to kiss him more thoroughly with how proud he was of Madi’s accomplishment. “Also some St. John’s Wort which we don’t have much use for but can grow out of control so we have to keep an eye on it.”

“Seems like more than that,” he said, pointing to her basket.

“I got some grafting from the raspberry bushes,” she said with an innocent smile.

“It’s going to grow out of control,” he said pointedly. “I’ve told you that.”

“I’ll plant it next to the blackberry bushes,” she argued. “It’s already prickly.”

“Then you have two out of control, prickly bushes to deal with,” Roan said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Clarke-“

“I promise I will keep cutting it back,” she said, holding up her hands. “I just don’t want to drive to pick raspberries.”

“You can walk,” he pointed out, eyes glittering up at her.

“Logic has no place here,” she said before bending down to kiss him, feeling his lips turn up against hers. “I’m still going to plant it.”

“And I’m still going to point out I was right when it grows out of control,” he said, pulling her down into his lap.

“I’ll look forward to your punishment then,” she whispered in his ear, noticing Madi emerge from the longhouse again. She looked down to Roan whose eyes had darkened a shade, his fingers digging into her hip a little more firmly.

“There are other ways to encourage that kind of attention from me, niron,” he murmured in her ear, fingertips teasing along the edge of her shirt.

*~*~*

Roan stripped off his shirt, hanging it over the edge of the partition. It was a sight Clarke doubted she’d ever get tired of seeing, his skin golden brown from hours working outside. His eyes moved to hers, a small smile playing around his lips.

“I can’t enjoy the fact that all that is mine?” She teased making his smile grow. 

“You can,” he said, tone deep and rich. He continued undressing, his movements slow and deliberate. When he was naked he lowered himself onto all fours, crawling up her body until he was hovering over her. He kissed her softly, the touch fleeting but warm. 

“Like hearing me say you’re mine?” she asked with a smile, liking the soft expression he wore. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “Very much.”

“You are mine,” Clarke said, running her fingers over one of his facial scars. “And I’m yours.”

“You’re mine, Clarke,” he said reverently, as if it was something he’d only just realised. 

“I am,” she agreed before kissing him, pouring all of her desire into the kiss. There was one thing she wanted to ask, that maybe didn’t matter like it once would have. But maybe it mattered more. 

“Can I ask you something?” she asked as he pressed kisses to her throat, lowering himself down to press against her. He hummed as he kept leaving attention on her throat, one hand slipping under the blanket to touch her skin. 

“Are there any traditions in Azgeda similar to marriage?” she asked, holding her breath as he stilled above her. He shifted to look down at her, something intent in his eyes.

“Why do you ask?” he asked, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. 

“I’m curious,” she whispered, knowing it was only partially true. She wanted to know how he saw their relationship, if he had made the same decisions she had. The others could join them in about a year and things would get messy. She wanted this to be about them.

“We don’t often do binding ceremonies,” he said after searching her eyes. “If you want to choose someone to spend your life with, you can make those promises privately.”

“Even you?” she asked and he exhaled sharply.

“In my former position I would be expected to negotiate an alliance,” he said quietly. “I would have a formal binding.”

“If we open the bunker,” Clarke said, heart racing in her chest. “And you become Azhefa again, what will happen to us?”

“If all that comes to pass,” he said, eyes a little vulnerable. “Nothing changes for me. I’m still yours.”

“Would we have to negotiate an alliance?” she asked.

“Do you want to bind yourself to me, Clarke?” he asked, cupping her cheek. 

“Yes,” she whispered. “I love you.”

His eyes took on an expression she hadn’t seen before. Clarke did her best to keep her own eyes open to him, hoping she hadn’t fucked up their progress. Roan cared deeply for her, Clarke knew that, but love was not something he’d known much of. Clarke needed him to know what he meant to her. 

“In Azgeda,” he started, running his fingers over her cheek. “We valued strength over everything else. Love has only ever been a weakness.”

Clarke tried not to take his words personally, as a rejection of her feelings but she felt tears prickle in her eyes. She took a breath, forcing herself to keep listening. 

“When two people choose to bind themselves,” he continued. “They would choose a design for their partner and mark them. I always believed that allowing someone to mark you, to trust them so deeply, to endure that pain, commit to a lifetime of wearing them, was an expression of deep affection. What many others called love. And it requires great strength.”

“What are you saying?” she whispered, voice catching with her emotions. 

“If you’ll allow me,” he said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I want to exchange marks with you.”

She knew this was possibly as close as he’d ever get to telling her how he felt. He may never say the words that had felt so monumental for her only moments ago. She also knew that exchanging marks was a permanent way to declare their connection to each other.

“Yes,” she said, feeling the breath he let out at her answer. 

“You are more than I could ever have hoped to deserve,” Roan said before he kissed her.

He made love to her slowly, drawing out each reaction, each sigh, each kiss until she was shaking with need below him. He was wholly in control but gave her more than she’d ever dared to ask for. When he finally slid inside of her Clarke sobbed in relief at being one with him. It didn’t take him long before she was muffling her cry against his shoulder and even less before he shuddered and emptied himself inside of her. He pulled her close, holding her against his chest as they both caught their breaths, heartbeats starting to slow into languid stillness. 

“When do we exchange marks?” she asked him, tracing the ridges of muscle on his belly. 

“When you’ve settled on a design,” he answered, hand gripping her hip.

“Where do you want it?” she asked, knowing the extent of his current scarification. 

“That’s for you to decide,” he said, palm warm as he ran it down her spine. “My body is yours.”

“That’s a lot of freedom,” Clarke said. 

“And trust,” Roan agreed. 

“That’s the idea of the marks, isn’t it?” she asked and he hummed. 

Clarke thought about what she’d want as a representation of herself on his skin. She also had to keep in mind that she would be the one who had to make the necessary cuts into his flesh. It was barbaric but no less so than what they’d done in Becca’s lab. Brutal in the way that their relationship had played itself out. 

“Do you know what you want to mark me with?” she asked, realising she’d have to endure the same pain as he would. 

“Yes,” he said to her surprise. It meant that his proposal had been far from spontaneous. 

“And you won’t tell me?” she asked, making his chest rumble with his laugh. 

“You will see it when it’s finished,” he said, kissing her forehead. “Just like I will yours.”

“Are they small?” She had to ask, knowing the size discrepancy between his facial scars and those on his back. 

“Yours will be the size of my palm,” he said, making her look up at him.”No, not my clan symbol.”

“Just checking,” she said a little wryly. 

“They represent what we mean to each other,” he said softly. “I will be proud to wear yours.”

“What do we tell Madi?” Clarke asked, touched by his words and suspecting it meant he wanted it somewhere it would be seen. 

“She can be there for the oath,” he said. “And her people had a similar practice. She’ll understand.”

“Really?” Clarke was constantly surprised at how much he and Madi discussed but she supposed she shouldn’t be at this point. 

Roan did his best to keep her education on track with what a child in Azgeda would receive, probably more so. They were working their way through the books from Polis and were slowly teaching her how to read English. Anything that fell under the umbrella of grounder traditions he did his best with, more familiar with other kru practices than Clarke had initially assumed. 

“She will be happy,” he said by way of answer. “She is as invested in our family as we are.”

“Is there something we can do for her?” Clarke asked. 

“When Madi is old enough I will give her the choice to be Marked as my daughter,” he said. “But since she’s ten, in Azgeda she would be old enough for her first brand.”

“What do you get as your first brand?” Clarke asked and he took her hand and pressed her fingertips against a small mark on his arm. 

“They are often no bigger than this,” he said as she traced the lines of a crescent moon. “This one my brother and I had done on the same day.”

“How much younger is he?” she asked, curious because he rarely spoke of his family.

“A winter,” he said softly, fingers light against her skin. “I asked to wait so we could do it together.”

“That’s very sweet,” Clarke said, trying to picture young Roan as a boy but it was hard. He snorted derisively and she frowned.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But it was not how things were done in Azgeda. Neither my mother nor my grandfather shared your sentiment. I was punished quite thoroughly.”

“Punished?” Clarke asked. “For wanting to do something with your brother?”

“For not being a worthy leader,” he said, voice distant and empty. 

“You were ten,” Clarke argued but Roan sighed. “You were a child.”

“We were young future monarchs,” he said. “Not children. That was a softness reserved for others.”

“I’m sorry, Roan,” Clarke said softly and he shifted to look at her. 

“It was all I knew,” he said. “I had more advantage than many.”

Clarke didn’t know what to say to him, but moved up to kiss him. She ran her fingertips over the brands around his eyes making him hum happily. He may not have had softness as a child, probably not as an adult either, but she could give him softness now. Gentleness and love. What he deserved. 

“Clarke-“ he started as she pulled away to kiss his brands.

“Let me,” she whispered as she pressed kisses up the right brand, over his forehead and down the left one. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

“Cl-“ he tried again but she cut him off, kissing him until he returned her affection and she was sure he wasn’t going to argue. 

Clarke kissed her way down his throat, giving extra attention to every small imperfection in his skin. Every scar. Every smooth expanse of skin. Every mark on his torso. She hovered her mouth over his cock for a moment, teasing his renewed erection with puffs of air until his hips twitched.

“Turn over,” she said, sliding off of him. He gave her a sceptical look so she added, “please.”

When he flipped onto his stomach she worked her way up from his waist, tracing each line of the scar work on his back with her lips and tongue. She felt his breath shudder as he exhaled and wondered how it felt, the skin’s sensitivity must be unique and broken. He was breathing heavily by the time she pressed her lips to his temple, eyes shut tight.

“You are beautiful,” she whispered against the skin of his cheek, feeling his muscles tense under her hands. 

“I’m far from beautiful,” he said. “I am practically disfigured.”

“You are  _ beautiful _ ,” she insisted. 

He cracked an eye open and shifted to look at her. Clarke encouraged him to turn onto his back again, running the palms of her hands up his chest and pressing a kiss to his sternum. She pushed for a moment before she pressed another one there, just off to the side of the scar from when he was shot in the chest. This was where she’d mark him. Let a piece of herself sit right above his sacrifice. 

“You are beautiful,” Roan said as she straddled his hips and lined his cock up with her entrance. “So very beautiful, niron.”

Clarke sank down onto him, holding his eyes as she rode him. She held his eyes as she cupped her tits waiting for those talented fingers to help push her to the edge. She held his eyes as she cried out when she tightened around him. And she held them when he groaned deep and low in his chest as he spilled himself inside of her.

*~*~*

“Madi,” Roan said, getting the girl’s attention. “We need to talk to you.”

“Sounds serious,” Madi said, joining him at the table. 

“It is,” Roan agreed. 

“But a good serious,” Clarke added to his amusement. “Don’t scare her.”

“I’m not scared,” Madi frowned, making Roan smile. Clarke was still a little overprotective of the girl.

“We have decided to do a binding ceremony,” Roan said, reaching for Clarke’s hand and taking it in his own. 

“Really?” Madi asked a smile creeping up over her lips. “Are you exchanging marks?”

“Yes,” Clarke said with a squeeze of his hand. “We’d like you to be there for the binding.”

“Yes,” Madi nodded happily and looked at him, adding more to his surprise. “I have ribbons for you.”

“Thank you,” Roan said warmly. “If you want, we’d like to take a family mark at the same time. Bind the three of us together-“

Roan had planned to say more but found his arms full of a gangly little ten-year-old girl who was holding on for dear life. Madi’s arms were tight around his neck, fingers digging into his shoulders. 

“I’ll take that as a yes, strikon,” he murmured and she nodded against his shoulder. “Clarke has designed a brand. If you don’t mind the Azgeda way.”

“Nomon and nontu would be so happy,” Madi said, wiping at her cheeks before she treated Clarke to the same affection as he’d had. The words struck a chord. Madi rarely spoke about her parents but she’d been a well-loved child. Soon she would have spent half her life with himself and Clarke as her carers so it meant something that she saw this as a good thing. 

“When?” Madi asked excitedly. “And where are the marks going to be?”

“As soon as we’ve made the preparations,” Roan answered as he tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear, picking up her hand and rubbing his thumb over the top of her wrist. “I thought here but if you’d rather elsewhere-“

“It’s up to you,” Madi insisted. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Roan returned, wrapping her up in another hug. “Thank you for trusting me, strikon.”

“Ai hod yu in,” she whispered into his ear and Roan had to close his eyes against the sting of tears, more moved by her words than he could have imagined he would be.

“Me too,” he agreed, leaning his forehead against hers and rubbing his thumb over her cheek.

“So we’ll be family,” Madi said, pulling back to look at Clarke. “Real family.”

“We are a family, Madi,” Clarke said even as she wiped at her cheeks. “But this way, everyone will know.”

“When they come back?” she asked hopefully.

“When they come back,” Clarke confirmed and Roan hoped they were promising her something that would come to pass one day.

Madi looked between them for a long moment before the bubbling excitement she’d been containing bubbled over and her questions started.

“What is it going to look like?” Madi turned in his arms to face Clarke fully. “Does Skaikru have traditional symbols? I know where the elders kept the inks.”

“You do?” Roan was surprised as Madi blinked innocently at him.

“I had plenty of time to explore before you came,” she said, a little of the joy diminishing in her eyes before she pushed the feeling away. “Maybe we could add something-“ her voice quieted, making Roan’s chest ache. She wanted to include her own traditions too. She would be of age to start deciding about her own marking ceremony, only two years away from becoming a second.

“If you know where the needles and inks are we will use them as well,” he promised, her blue eyes widening. “The brand is small, but you can show us what you’d like to add.”

“You’d-“ she started before shaking her head and looking up at Clarke. “Really?”

“Of course, Madi,” Clarke agreed immediately. “I can help you if you’d like or show you what the brand is so you know what you’re working with.”

“But Azgeda don’t use ink,” Madi turned back to him once more. “You can’t-“

“I believe I am the one to decide that,” Roan said, before she worried herself over something so insignificant. “I’ll take whatever mark you wish to give me. You are as important to this family as I or Clarke.”

Madi’s eyes filled with tears before she threw herself against his chest, holding him tight. Roan closed his eyes, breathing in deeply as he held her close, allowing the emotions swelling within him to have dominion over him for a moment. It was a luxury he’d not been able to afford before Praimfaya and it may be taken from him in the future. This, he’d allow himself. Especially during such an important moment.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully everyone is in the mood for some fluffy fluffy fluff... 
> 
> And because I've been slack and haven't thanked the wonderful [Faith ](/users/%5BhavealittleFaith%5D/) for all her help in too long... She is the best.

They had taken a week to prepare for the family binding ceremony. Madi had secreted herself away in her old family hut working on something she refused to show either Roan or herself. Clarke was equal parts curious and amused by her behaviour, but it warmed her heart to see how excited the girl was. There were still months left until Bellamy and the others would return and they would open the bunker, giving them time together as a family. To make this about them, not about any false appearances.

“Ready?” Roan’s head appeared at the doorway of the longhouse where Clarke was getting dressed. She’d managed to pull together enough bright cloth and with Madi’s help had sewn dresses for each of them. Clarke didn’t know any more than what Roan had told her about binding ceremonies and he hardly mentioned any special dress, but she knew what she’d seen on the old films on the Ark and wanted to make something special for the day. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but enough to be different from what she’d usually wear. Softer, prettier rather than functional and utilitarian. 

“Almost!” Clarke called out in reply, still half-hidden behind the screen as she laced the bodice of the dress.

Hers was an array of different shades of blue and violet, long folds of material making for a soft swirl of fabric around her legs as she straightened. Madi’s dress was a collection of strips of red, pink and orange, matching the joy and life of the event. Clarke had left Roan to his own devices, assuming he’d stick to his customary dark leathers but she couldn’t pretend to mind. He carried the look well, looking every inch the warrior king he was.

“Clarke!” Madi called out as she came around the corner of the screen, smiling brightly. “I found these for you.”

Madi held out a small bouquet of wildflowers to her, wrapped with a bright red ribbon to Clarke’s surprise.

“What?” Clarke asked, blinking at the bright blossoms as she accepted them.

“You told me that you always grew a special flower on the Ark for brides,” the girl said, a softness in her eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond her years. “We pick them here for special celebrations. I thought you’d like it.”

“I love them,” Clarke smiled, feeling emotion make her eyes prickle. “Thank you Madi.”

She wrapped the girl in a tight hug which was returned with equal enthusiasm before she straightened and stood.

“Are you ready?” Clarke asked Madi, knowing that what was about to happen would be painful for all of them, but somehow it felt worse knowing she’d be inflicting pain on a child.  _ Their child. _

“Very,” Madi said brightly before turning and leaving the longhouse with a glance over her shoulder “Come on! Roan’s waiting.”

Clarke took a breath, feeling the smile curl over her lips before she stepped out from around the screen to follow Madi. She felt a surge of excitement spread through her belly and tingle through to her fingertips. She tightened her grip on the flowers before stepping out into the soft afternoon sunlight. She followed the small path that wound down through the village to the small clearing where they’d decided to hold the binding ceremony.

Clarke saw that Madi had been busy, an array of colourful fabrics bound alongside the path along with small bunches of wildflowers. She heard the soft rumble of Roan’s voice before she saw him standing beside Madi as he checked the coals that would heat their brands. He looked up when he heard the rustle of movement from her approach and the soft smile on his face dropped away.

Clarke felt her cheeks heat under the weight of his stare as he took in her appearance. Her mind slipped back to when she’d caught his surprised expression as she appeared as Wanheda before Lexa, a memory now tainted by pain and regret. The expression he wore now made her heart skip a beat. He was looking at her like she was a revelation, something new and precious, something to be treasured even when he was the one who knew the darkest parts of her. The parts of her that should have turned him from her, not look at her like a gift. She found herself glancing away, feeling shy.

“See? She’s very pretty,” Madi said, interrupting the moment in a way only a child could. Even if that child was old enough to know exactly what she was doing.

“Beautiful,” Roan agreed, stepping forward to meet her.

He was wearing black leather trousers as his usual wont, but instead of any sort of formal jacket she’d half-expected him to don, he wore one of the soft shirts he’d taken to wearing in the village. It was still black, but it softened his look and made him more man than king, making Clarke’s heart beat hard and fast in her chest. This was Roan coming to join with her and there was nothing in the world that felt more sacred than this moment.

“Thank you,” Clarke smiled up at him when he took her hand and walked backwards to lead her over to where the small firepit sat, their brands and the tattoo inks set out beside it. “You look very handsome, yourself.”

Roan smirked, allowing the long, unbound length of his hair fall forward to obscure his face. Clarke doubted he would ever be able to accept any of her compliments but it made it all the better to give them.

“Since we do not have an elder to perform the binding,” Roan started as he moved closer to the table set beside the coals, Madi going still as he spoke. “I will speak the words of the Azgeda family binding. Madi can speak the ones of Louwoda Kliron. Clarke you can speak a Skaikru oath.”

Clarke nodded her assent, having agreed to this during their discussions the previous week. They had found an old book among the possessions of one of the elders and Roan had taught them to Madi so she could contribute the traditions from her own people. Clarke had taken some time to reflect on what she wanted to say and though she couldn’t remember the formal words they’d used on the Ark at wedding ceremonies, not that she wanted to use them, but she had an idea of what she wanted to say. What neither Roan nor Madi knew was that she’d managed to make three rings for each of them which she would present as her own contribution to the ceremony.

“I have something I want to give you,” Madi said looking between Roan and Clarke. “Something for your binding.”

“We’re doing the family ceremony first, strikon,” Roan said, though the softness in his eyes hinted at his affection.

“I know, Roan,” the girl smiled, pulling out a small bag from the folds of her skirt. “But I want to give this to you now.”

“Alright,” the king agreed, gesturing to Clarke to open the bag, Madi grinning happily at her.

“Oh!” Clarke exclaimed as she pulled out a long braided cord, delicate beads woven in among the colourful ribbons. “Madi, this is beautiful.”

“The red is for love,” Madi started softly as Clarke held the cord up for closer inspection, Roan stepping closer to her side. “That one was easy. Blue is for loyalty, green for peace, and yellow is to bring you joy.”

Clarke blinked hard against the sting of tears Madi’s explanation brought. She glanced up at Roan, finding his own eyes fixed on the cord she held, but saw him swallow as Madi continued.

“These stones are to bring you good fortune,” she said, pointing to some small white pebbles that had been woven into the red ribbon. “These are to protect you and the family you build. And these are to ensure you always have the wisdom to move forward.”

Clarke drew the girl into a tight hug, sniffing as the tears she’d tried to quell spilled from her eyes.

“Thank you, Madi,” she whispered against her dark hair. “I love it and I love you.”

“I love you too, Clarke,” Madi returned quietly before Roan swept her into a hug too, his words not audible to Clarke, nor were the ones Madi gave him in return.

“This is beautiful,” Roan said, his voice hoarse as he moved to take it from Clarke and place it on the table next to the brands. “I think we’re all ready.”

Roan looked to Clarke for confirmation and she nodded happily, taking Madi’s hand in hers as they moved to stand beside him. They would do the tattooing first, according to Louwoda Kliron tradition, before the Azgeda brands. Madi had asked to do Clarke’s small symbol, and Clarke would tattoo both Roan and Madi.

“Madi kom Louwoda Kliron kru,” Roan started, taking the girl’s free hand in one of his. “I ask you by the witness of the Spirits of Old if it is your wish to join my family and be of my blood, under my protection, as my child to guide on your path forward from this day.”

“It is,” Madi said solemnly, holding Roan’s eyes. “I ask you by the witness of the Spirits of Old if it is your wish to join my family and be of my blood, as my protector and guide in my path forward as a child of your name and blood.”

“It is,” Roan affirmed, voice rich and low in promise. “Yu jus ste ai jus.”

”I accept you as my blood-bound father,” Madi confirmed, smiling widely up at Roan. “Yu jus ste ai jus.”

“I am honoured to call you my blood-bound daughter, Madi,” Roan said, leaning down to press a kiss against the top of her head. Clarke could see the emotion he was desperately trying to suppress, amazed at how open he was. Here in a peaceful forest glen in the only habitable part of the planet, the king of Azgeda stood with only two witnesses to the love he had for his small family. It humbled Clarke to be a part of that small unit.

“Your turn,” Roan whispered, bringing Clarke back to the present.

“Madi kom Louwoda Kliron kru,” Clarke said after clearing her throat. “I ask you by the witness of the Spirits of Old if it is your wish to join my family and be of my blood, under my protection, as my child to guide on your path forward from this day.”

“It is,” Madi agreed as formally as she had with Roan before. “I ask you by the witness of the Spirits of Old if it is your wish to join my family and be of my blood, as my protector and guide in my path forward as a child of your name and blood.”

“It is,” Clarke’s voice cracked, a soft smile on her lips. “Yu jus ste ai jus.”

”I accept you as my blood-bound mother,” Madi said, eyes glittering happily as she smiled widely. “Yu jus ste ai jus.”

“Will you do mine first?” Clarke asked Madi, indicating the ink. Madi took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders in determination. She had been practicing all week, ensuring she could recreate the small runic symbol for unity to perfection.

Clarke settled her hand on the table as Madi prepared the small needle and dish of ink. It wouldn’t take long to do the small design, but it was meticulous work so Clarke prepared herself to sit for a while. Madi glanced up at her before she pierced the skin of her forearm for the first time. Clarke couldn’t help the small flinch from the sudden pain, but ensured to smother any future reactions to the piercing pain of the process.

Once Madi had proudly smiled as she massaged the tattooed area with oil to clean it, it was Clarke’s turn to set herself to the task. Madi didn’t move during her tattoo and judging by the placid expression on Roan’s face it was one of the lesser pains he had been witness to. The blonde doubted it was comparable and glanced over to where the small wire heart shape that they’d chosen for the family brand lay next to the glowing coals. That would certainly hurt and knowing a body’s reaction to burns Clarke was already bracing herself for the pain of the small mark, let alone for the infinity symbol that would decorate the inside of her wrist for her formal binding with Roan.

*~*~*

Roan set the family brand on the coals, watching it carefully as it quickly turned bright red in the heat of the fire. Clarke had outright refused to do Madi’s brand, which had hardly surprised him, but he hoped she would be able to keep a steady hand for his own marriage brand. Though he would be capable of branding himself, it was important that she be the one to do it for him, if only to demonstrate that she could endure the more private part of their marking ceremony later that night.

“It’s ready,” he said, pulling the long branding iron from the heat and looking up at Madi. “You first, strikon.”

“Kei,” she whispered a little nervously, fingers clenching Clarke’s hand tightly. His girls both knew to anticipate pain with branding and it showed, but he hoped it would be brief and considering the size of the mark it should heal in only a few days.

“You are stronger than you know,” Roan said as he took her right hand in his, turning Madi’s wrist to expose her first mark. “By the flames that light our way and warm our homes, I mark you as one of ours. As my kin.”

He averted his eyes from Madi’s worried face and pressed the brand quickly and efficiently against her skin, careful to ensure he didn’t use too much pressure and do any damage. He bit the inside of his cheek when she tightened her fingers around his and whimpered softly as he pulled it away, knowing that the end of the brand was generally the most painful part. Replacing the brand on the coals once more he looked up at Madi, a proud smile on his face, part of him wishing this could have been a more public declaration with how well she had conducted herself. She was strong enough to be a true Azgeda and the daughter of a king.

“Well done, Madi,” he complimented, pulling her close and holding her tight as he kissed her temple. “It is done and you are mine.”

“I am,” she whispered in reply, the words pulling at his heart as Clarke’s hand settled on his shoulder. There was more yet to come, but it was important for them to show Madi that she was as much a part of this family as they were. It could be easy to lose themselves to their own binding and that was something Roan didn’t want to do.

“My turn,” Clarke said as he pulled back from the girl, pushing her shoulders back and giving her best attempt at looking fierce.

He had always appreciated the bit of softness in her eyes she never could quite rid herself of, hinting at the depth of feeling in everything she did. Many had whispered about the intimidating Wanheda whose eyes would strike down a man as quickly as a hunter’s arrow, but Roan knew Clarke too well. There was always something in her eyes that spoke of her humanity and her hope. It was what had called to him from the first moment he saw her as he tracked her in the woods, waiting to bring her back to Polis. It was what made her so much more than what even she knew herself to be.

“You are stronger than you know,” Roan said as he took Clarke’s hand, holding her eyes, weaving their fingers together intimately. “By the flames that light our way and warm our homes, I mark you as ours.”

As he pressed the brand carefully to her skin, he let his eyes speak his promise to the woman his heart had chosen. There were more elaborate declarations he could use, but he wanted to keep faithful to the words. He couldn’t claim Clarke as kin, not as his partner in guiding Madi but the words that were generally said in ceremonies like these were either insufficient or too convoluted. He needed to keep things simple and clear, let Clarke and Madi know what they were to him. He would make Clarke his during their binding ceremony.

“You are ours,” Roan said after setting the brand back on the coals, pulling Clarke close for a soft kiss before Madi’s arms circled her waist. Clarke’s eyes glittered up at him, smile watery when he slid his fingertips along her jaw. He didn’t need to tell her she was strong, it was there in the flex of her fingers around his, in the soft exhalation as the only expression of pain when he seared her skin.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” Clarke asked, but he could see the confidence in her eyes.

“Can I?” Madi asked suddenly, causing both adults to look at the girl in surprise. “I tattooed Clarke. Shouldn’t I do yours?”

“If you wish,” Roan agreed immediately. Madi was right, it was fair for her to do his brand as she had marked Clarke earlier. Clarke parted her lips to say something but he was quick to send her a quelling look. This was an important demonstration of trust to give Madi and even if it caused more pain or if his brand was less perfect, it would be more right if she were to do it.

“Just remember what we said about tendons,” Clarke pointed out softly, crouching down before Madi and taking her hand. “Only apply this much pressure, okay?”

Roan’s shoulders dropped when Clarke gave her consent, relieved that she understood.

“I understand,” Madi said seriously, glancing between them once more. “You’ll help?”

“I’ll be right beside you,” Clarke said, looking up at Roan and taking his hand. “I’ll hold him still but I’m sure you can do it. You did such a good job on my mark.”

“Okay,” Madi exhaled softly, straightening her shoulders after her particular fashion. She looked up at him and Roan nodded at her, a small smile curling his lips as Clarke’s fingers circled his wrist. “Can I speak the words?”

“Of course,” Roan said as Madi took the branding iron.

“You are stronger than you know,” Madi said, holding his gaze solemnly. “By the flames that light our way and warm our homes, I mark you as ours. I mark you as kin.”

The brand stung familiarly but he felt the mark to his very bones. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, allowing the enormity of what they’d done fall over him. It was over in seconds, the pull of his skin less painful than he remembered and then it was official. They were family.

*~*~*

Madi smiled as Roan whispered something to Clarke that she couldn’t hear, making the blonde blush slightly. Madi wanted to roll her eyes at the display but today was special and she understood what it meant to her parents. It felt a little strange to think of them as such, but after nearly five years together she had been with them longer than she had memories of nomon and nontu. She still thought about them, but not as often as she had before. Her last memories of nomon were ones she tried to push away and she felt fortunate that nontu had left for Polis so she didn’t have to find him in the village after.

Madi shook her head, pushing away the sad images that flooded her mind and focussed instead on the couple before her. Roan held the binding cord she had woven for them, ensuring that she kept her thoughts positive to ensure that their union would be a happy one. She had chosen the beads with care and added thoughts she thought their friends would want included. She thought of Bellamy, Raven, Monty, Harper, Murphy, Emori and even Echo individually as she wove beads through the cord. She hoped that somehow the Spirits would weave in their good intentions too. She’d done the same for Roan’s brother and sister and Clarke’s mother. They all had a bead of their own. One day she hoped she could tell them the story of the binding chord and of the ceremony this day.

“Come on, our little nightblood,” Clarke called out with a wide smile. “We need you.”

“You want me to hear your vows?” Madi asked, having assumed that she would only be there for the formal hand binding. She had thought that Roan especially would keep those between only himself and Clarke.

“Yes,” Roan said simply and Madi hurried up to stand before them to one side of the small fire that still burned, the binding brand set beside it, ready to be used.

“We do this as a family,” Clarke said quietly, her happiness practically vibrating from her. She was always beautiful, but today Madi thought she looked radiant. “Oh! And I have something for you.”

Roan frowned as Clarke pulled out a small bag from her bodice while Madi looked on curiously. The blonde untied it and upturned the bag over the palm of her hand. She closed her fingers around the objects that fell out before Madi could see what they were and licked her lips nervously.

“Skaikru doesn’t have markings,” Clarke said, pausing to clear her throat. “But we do have something to mark marriage.”

“Generally, this is only for the couple,” she continued, looking up at Roan, all the love she obviously had for him evident in her expression. “But I thought we could adapt it a little to include you too, Madi.”

With that she opened her hand to reveal three metal rings, glinting in the soft afternoon light. They were simple bands, two much wider than the smallest of the three and all had a decoration around the edge.

“Here,” Clarke said, handing Madi the smallest ring. “You can wear it on whatever finger it fits. You can move it around as you wish when it gets too small.”

Madi looked at the ring, turning it between her fingers and holding it up to look at the etching on the side. There were three small indents on one edge which she assumed represented the three of them. She slipped it onto the middle finger of her right hand, finding it loose. With a frown she moved it to her thumb instead where it fit well.

“Thank you, Clarke,” Madi said softly, looking closer at the two rings still left in her palm. Roan was watching the exchange in silence, waiting for his moment to join in.

“Ours are worn on the left ring finger,” Clarke continued to explain, holding up the larger of the two rings for their inspection. “I adapted these from a couple of rings I found. I polished them and did my best to inscribe them.” Clarke finished, her cheeks flushing again, looking shy under Roan’s stare. Madi smiled at their interaction, amused by the play between them. She could already tell that Roan appreciated the surprise and was merely dragging out the moment to enjoy Clarke’s reaction.

“And this will show Skaikru that you are mine?” he asked, eyes turned up at the corners in the way they did when he was fighting off a smile.

“Yes,” Clarke confirmed, her confidence returning. “And that you’re mine.”

Roan didn’t say anything but plucked the larger ring from her fingers and moved to slip it on the required finger. Clarke’s hand shot out to stop the motion to Madi’s surprise.

“It’s part of the ceremony,” she explained, looking between them. “After the binding I give you yours and you give me mine.”

“I see,” Roan rumbled, looking to Madi. “Will you hold them for us?”

“Of course,” Madi smiled, holding her hand out for the rings. Roan dropped his into her palm readily before handing her the binding cord. “Ready?”

Madi looked to Roan who nodded before she looked to Clarke. The blonde smiled widely at her. They intertwined the fingers of their left hands and Madi tied the first knot of the chord. Like the tattoo, this was another part she had practiced over and over again to ensure she had it done perfectly. She’d practiced the intricate pattern until she could do it with her eyes closed and recited the words over and over in her mind until she fell asleep at night.

“As this cord binds your hands, so are your lives bound,” Madi started, moving to wrap one side around Roan’s wrist. “Roan kom Azgeda from this day you are bound. You swear your life, your land, your sword, your honour, from this moment to Clarke Griffin kom Skaikru.”

Madi watched Roan as she tied off the cord around his wrist, his eyes on Clarke and Clarke alone. Madi smiled, knowing that the formal words didn’t mention anything about love or emotion, there was more than enough of it here in the moment.

“Clarke Griffin kom Skaikru, from this day you are bound,” Madi said, continuing to bind Clarke’s wrist. “You swear your life, your land, your sword, your honour, from this moment to Roan kom Azgeda.”

“Do you wish to speak your vows?” Madi asked, looking between the two. She didn’t know who would speak first, but wasn’t surprised when it was Clarke.

“I don’t know what to say,” Clarke started with a laugh. “I know I’ve had a week but- I just can’t get it right. But I guess all that’s important is that I love you.” Clarke blinked and looked away before holding Roan’s intent gaze.

“We didn’t have an easy beginning,” she shook her head. “I tried to kill you, almost did. And then Becca and the bullet in your chest. I had to force myself away from you, force myself to stop thinking about you because if I did – I knew then that there was more to us than just – whatever it should have been.”

“We’ve literally seen the end of the world together,” she continued, tears sparkling in her eyes and it made Madi’s heart catch. “As close to it as we ever could. And we’ve been through hell. We’ve fought each other. Fought beside each other. And fought  _ for _ each other. I hope we always will keep fighting for each other. Because there is no one I’d rather have by my side than you. It wouldn’t matter if we were in the bunker or in space or still in Polis. I’d still want you because ever since I met you, I haven’t stopped wanting you. And now I’m lucky enough to love you. And I won’t ever stop loving you, Roan.”

Madi’s own eyes prickled at the emotion in Clarke’s voice as it broke over her final declaration. Roan stood still, his eyes blazing down at the blonde and Madi felt like the outsider she was in the moment. She knew they loved each other deeply, had known probably longer than they had themselves, but to hear it declared was something else. She remained quiet, waiting to see what Roan would do or say but the man remained silent for a long moment before he shifted on his feet.

“I used to dream of you,” Roan said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “From the beginning I dreamt of you. I still dream of you but wake to find you with me and I have never been as humbled by anything as I am of that.”

Clarke was openly crying now, tears tracking down her cheeks. Roan raised his free hand up to cup her cheek.

“I swear my life to you, Clarke,” he said. “All that I am is yours, until I am no more.”

Clarke didn’t hesitate before throwing herself at Roan, holding him close despite the awkward tangle of their hands between them. Madi looked away, turning to one side discreetly, hoping to give them a moment of privacy. She heard a low whisper of voices but ignored the words in favour of turning her face toward the warm sunlight filtering through the trees, sending a prayer of thanks up to the Spirits for allowing Clarke and Roan to find each other.

“I am yours,” Clarke said, recalling Madi’s attention to her parents and the ceremony. The blonde looked over at her, reaching her free hand out. “Can I have his ring please?”

Madi passed the respective rings to each of them and watched as Clarke slipped hers onto Roan’s bound hand, pushing hard when it caught against his knuckle. He quirked his lip up in a small smirk but copied the action for her, placing the smaller ring on Clarke’s left hand. Madi placed her own hands on their bound ones.

“May the Spirits bless this binding,” she said, closing her eyes and willing her good intentions into the action. “May their lives be long. May their children be strong. May their future be prosperous. Though we remove the cord that binds them on this day, they are joined until death.”

The words felt awkward after the couple’s own honest vows and declarations of devotion, but the formalities were completed. Madi slipped the still bound cord from their hands as Clarke and Roan slipped their fingers free. She placed the bound bundle on the table near and moved the branding iron onto the coals. Her wrist burned in reminder of the pain she’d felt not long before and sympathised with Clarke and Roan for having to endure it once again.

“Ready?” Roan asked Clarke, turning his left wrist toward her. Clarke pressed her lips together with a short nod, moving to take the brand from the coals and efficiently pressed it against the skin. It was over in a moment, a dark infinity symbol now stark against the pale inside of Roan’s wrist.

“I love you,” Roan murmured just before he pressed the brand to Clarke’s wrist, her eyes fluttering shut at the pain, but as soon as he removed the brand she smiled brilliantly at him.

“I’m officially yours,” she said and stepped closer as she tilted her head up to him. “Skaikru officially seals vows with a kiss.”

“That is one kru tradition I can respect,” he said, an easy smile gracing his face as he leaned down to kiss her.

*~*~*

After the binding the newly bound family celebrated with a small feast, lavish by their own standards. Clarke and Madi had managed to bake the honey cakes the blonde had loved from Polis after they had adapted an old recipe they’d found in one of the cookbooks. It was the perfect end to one of the best days Clakre had experienced on the ground. By the time the newly wed couple said goodnight to their daughter before making their way to Roan’s old hut. 

As soon as the door shut behind them, Roan had Clarke in his arms, kissing her deeply, all the love and affection he felt for her pouring into the kiss and the press of his hands against her hips. He didn’t give her a chance to do anything but cling to him as he explored her mouth, holding her as close as he could, until he broke away, panting against her lips. 

“Hi,” Clarke smiled, unable to contain her joy at his blatant display of passion. “Happy?”

“Very,” Roan agreed, hands moving restlessly over her waist. “I like this.”

“The dress?” Clarke asked, cocking her head to one side, needing a moment to take it all in. This was her wedding night. And Roan was her husband. She let out a shaky breath as she waited for him to respond, but he seemed just as overwhelmed as she was. He straightened, looking down at her, eyes searching her face before he smiled at her. It was a soft and loving smile, something Clarke wasn’t sure she’d seen on his face before and promised herself that she’d keep this moment in her memories forever. 

“Everything,” he whispered, his voice rough as he cupped her cheek. “You’re mine.”

Clarke smiled wider at the awe in his tone. She knew exactly how he felt so she pushed up onto her toes and kissed him softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. She pressed her forehead against his, closing her eyes.

“And you’re mine,” she whispered back. Roan immediately kissed her, lifting her against his chest and moving to the bed. It didn’t take long for his hands to strip her of her dress as he worshiped her mouth, before slowly moving down her body and showing the same thorough devotion to the rest of her body as he had the kiss. 

Roan’s eyes were dark and serious as he crawled up her body, the pleasant hum of her orgasm making her languid and soft. Clarke reached for him, tucking a lock of dark hair behind his ear as he eased himself down between her legs. He held her gaze in silence, studying her intently for a long moment. Clarke smiled softly at him and it seemed to break whatever spell had fallen over him as he pressed his hips against hers, his cock hard and ready just shy of its destination. 

“I never want you to doubt what I feel for you, Clarke,” he said quietly as the smile slipped from her face. Clarke waited, watching him search for the words he wanted as he traced the curve of her lower lip with his thumb. “I’m yours until I draw my last breath. I’ll bow to you alone, niron.”

“I love you,” Clarke voiced her feelings for him before reaching up to kiss him as she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips. It was all that needed to be said, Clarke knew Roan loved her and they took the time they now had to show each other how much. It was there in every touch, every gasp, every tightened muscle, every drop of sweat that beaded against their heated bodies. 

Roan had been responsible for the preparations for their private marking ceremony and after her heart had slowed to its normal rhythm Clarke noted the small basket of supplies set off to one side. It didn’t take long for Roan to notice where her attention was and he shifted over to reach for it, efficiently setting things as he needed them before shifting Clarke to lie on one hip as he seated himself beside her.

“Ready?” he asked, smoothing a hand over the rounded swell of her hip. She nodded and braced herself for the pain to come. 

There was definitely pain, that much was undeniable, but Roan’s touch was surprisingly light and quick. She tried to guess at the design but she had to concentrate on something else to stay still. Finally she felt him run his fingers over his work, spreading a numbing poultice that eased the sting significantly.

“There,” he said at last, pressing a kiss against her thigh. “You were amazing.”

“Can I look?” she asked after he’d kissed her, making him smile in amusement.

“Yes,” he said, moving back to give her a proper look. Over the crest of her hip was now a swirl of lines, pink and dark red against her pale skin. It was beautiful.

“Wow,” she said, wanting to touch the lines but forcing herself to resist. “This was not what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” Roan asked, head cocked to one side.

“Your name?” she teased, unsure. Roan shook his head. 

“These lines are you,” he said, running his fingers and more salve onto the flowing lines on the top. “These ones represent me.”

He ran his fingers over the pointed lines that seemed to reach for the softer ones. He continued running his fingers over to where the lines joined, running his fingers over the area. 

“This is us,” he explained. “This is where we join and where our lives continue together.”

“It’s beautiful,” Clarke said, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes.

Roan finally met her gaze then and she was astonished by the emotion in them. The relief and insecurity he chose to show her in that moment. He searched her eyes for a long moment before he relaxed his shoulders and sat back. He rinsed his fingers in the bowl set beside the bed for the task, the water tinted grey from her blood. He reached for the bandages and carefully applied more salve to her skin before he wrapped her hip, the particular spot a little awkward but the healed end result would be stunning. Clarke almost felt self-conscious of her own choice of mark and position now, but knew it felt right.

“Your turn,” she said softly, rising gingerly off the bed, his eyes trailing down her still naked body. “I think I’ll do this naked, it appears to be a good distraction for you.”

“Don’t need one,” he said quietly, cupping her chin and bringing her close for a kiss. “But I won’t encourage you to dress.”

“Do you want to sit or lie down?” she asked, straddling his hips and pressing her palm to his pectoral. “It’s going here.”

“What’s easier for you?” he asked, a small grin playing around his lips when he realised the location of her mark.

“Lay back,” Clarke said, sliding forward to sit over his stomach. “Sure you want me naked?”

“There’s never a time I’ll say no to that,” Roan murmured, hands warm on her thighs.

“Fine,” she smiled down at him as she reached for the scalpel, more used to the feel of it in her hands than Roan’s small blade. “Just no touching. I’ve got to concentrate.”

He hummed, focussing his eyes on her face as she focussed on the task ahead. There was a tremor in her fingers when she raised the scalpel over his skin and she took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves. She tried to see this as an amalgamation of her doctoring and her artistry but knowing she was cutting into Roan was making her very nervous.

“Will it help if I tell you I want you to?” he asked, palm warm as it slid up her thighs. “That the pain won’t be too bad?”

“Not really,” she admitted before she focussed, trying to remind herself that though his mark had certainly hurt, it had been bearable because he was quick and confident. She owed him the same experience.

“I love you,” she said, holding his eyes before she lowered the scalpel and slid it over his skin.

Clarke kept her eyes on her work, wiping away the blood that welled up and working as quickly but carefully as she could. Her mark was simple and a throwback to her father’s Irish heritage. She used the small oval scar as the centre point to her own circle, wanting his sacrifice to be the centre of everything. She managed to keep the two points pretty much identical to her own surprise and by the time she dipped her fingers into the salve to spread it over the open wound she had nearly forgotten what she was doing.

“It’s an ancient symbol,” she said as he raised his head to look at it. “It represents everlasting love and family. My father’s family was Irish in the world Before. He used to love symbology and I really loved this one in particular.”

“It’s fitting,” Roan said, which made her laugh as she spread more salve over his wound. “I appreciate the placement.”

“You should have died,” Clarke said with a frown. His hand was quick to wrap around her own and she looked up.

“Pretty much a defining feature of our relationship,” he said with a hint of a smirk, the words she’d said to him so very long ago making her almost dizzy. They were in such a different place now.

“Ai jus ste yu jus,” she whispered, making the smirk fall from his lips. “I won’t betray you again.”

“I left the past where it belongs a long time ago, Clarke,” Roan said softly. “Time for you to do the same.”

“Not sure it’s that simple,” she argued. “Not with what’s coming.”

“We don’t know what’s coming,” he said. “And either way, we go forward. We will never be able to change the past. Regardless of who returns from space or who digs their way out of the ground.”

“Okay,” she said after contemplating his words.

He pushed himself up to kiss her, her hand immediately going to flatten itself against his chest and reminding her that she still hadn’t dressed his wound properly. She kissed him chastely, she was unable to do anything but, until she pressed lightly on his shoulder.

“Let me dress this for you,” she whispered, eyes glittering down at him. “You should probably avoid wearing a shirt until it’s healed completely.”

“Does that mean you won’t be wearing pants?” he asked, glancing down at where she still sat naked over his belly. “Because that sounds like a good idea.”

“To speed healing?” she asked and he smiled widely.

“Only for your benefit,” he agreed, hands squeezing her thighs.

“I’m sure,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll be avoiding pants for a while, yes,” she added, making his eyes light up. “Haven’t worn a skirt since the Ark but I’m sure we have enough spare material around here.”

Roan laughed, moving his hands up to her ribs, encouraging her to lean close as he did. She loved the sound of his laughter. It was still rough and hesitant, even now, but it was all the more special for it’s scarcity. She was still smiling when she kissed him. The kiss was sloppy and careless but absolutely adoring and perfect. Clarke kissed him until he gently shifted her onto her unmarked side and slid inside her from behind. She should have realized that it would take a few weeks before they could return to their usual favourite hand holds, his included, but it was perfect. She turned her head when he was panting behind her, pressing a kiss against his cheekbone.

“Did you pick my hip because that’s where you love to hold on when we’re fucking?” she asked, lips curling upwards.

“I picked that spot because I want to be able to feel myself on your skin as I’m holding you while you sleep,” he admitted after a short silence, his voice halting and serious. “I picked that spot because I know every inch of your skin, Clarke, and I know there’s no other place on your body that makes you sigh quite like when I suck marks into the hollow of your hip. Because that is where you like me most.”

“Not quite most,” she whispered, voice wet with tears. “But a close second.”

“It’s the place I always go to after watching you fall apart,” he added. “When you look at me like I am everything you want in this world. That’s why I picked that spot.”

Clarke turned as best as she could and kissed him passionately. He was rarely verbose but when he was, the things he told her changed something for her. Forever. It was his way of telling her that he loved her. His way of admitting that as much as she looked at him that way, he returned the emotion ten fold. It was his declaration of devotion and Clarke could never have asked for anything more.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this. Too much on my plate recently and I've barely had time to think let alone time on my computer. 
> 
> One more after this then we're done!

“So it’s five years today. 

I guess it was stupid to assume you’d be down here today, but - 

It’s not that I need time away from the others, it’s just that - I can’t wait for you guys to see this place. To be here. To talk to you. I have told Madi so much she can’t wait to see you. May know you as soon as she sees you so don’t be alarmed. She’ll just be too excited to do anything but gush. 

So yeah, I guess that’s all I’ve got for you today.

It’s time. Door’s open. 

You can have a bowl of Roan’s famous fish stew. It’ll be the best meal you’ve ever eaten and not just because you’ve lived off algae for half a decade.”

*~*~*

“Winter again. 

The storms are rough this year. I can see why you’d be reluctant to come down. But I promise we’ll find you wherever you land. Just make sure to stay out of the sand as much as possible. Aim for the trees if you can’t get here. We’re on constant watch.”

*~*~*

“Day 2000. 

It’s cold. The skies are clear and I’m still shivering. But it’ll be spring soon. We’ve prepared all the huts for winter. Madi even insisted that you have one each just in case you need some time away from everything. I keep telling her that Monty and Harper will live together. Even more than five years on I know that like I know my own hand. 

I’ve written down everything Roan’s taught us over the last five years. One book filled with kru history and traditions. One with farming information, including what we’ve learned about farming here. One with all the survival things. It’s incredible. Now that I see it laid out in front of me I’m amazed. He’s just taught me, and Madi too, so much. I’m sure we would have made it without him, but I can’t imagine it any more. Not just our relationship - but you should see how much we’ve improved the village. It’s ready for resettlement. 

Our grain stores are big enough to keep everyone fed for months. Roan’s even paranoid enough to have built a second, larger grain storage facility somewhere hidden. Old habits die hard I suppose. And in case things don’t go well when we open the bunker. If we control the food stores…. Maybe I should fill the next book I write with strategy. I’m sure you’d love that one. He’s even read the old Roman texts. Did I tell you that? 

Anyways. Two thousand days. It almost feels like a dream. Or a nightmare I’ve almost forgotten. It’s all very strange. 

Sorry, it’s being stuck inside so long. Makes me philosophical. 

Come on. Come home.”

*~*~*

“Day 2100.

Spring is spring. Fields are planted. It rained last night so that helped. 

Madi has a cold so she’s staying inside today. It’s muddy. 

It’s time for you to come down. 

If you’re alive that is.”

Clarke pressed the receiver against her forehead, closing her eyes tight against the tears of frustration and disappointment that stung sharply. She exhaled shakily knowing she needed to gather herself before returning to Roan and Madi. They couldn’t see just how affected she was by this, they may assume it meant she wasn’t happy with them, but she just needed to know the others were okay. That they had made it. She had thought they would be back by now if they were still alive. With what they had up there they would be back down at the first opportunity. 

“Clarke,” Roan’s low rasp made her blink and drop the receiver as she scrambled to wipe her cheeks. 

“Yeah?” She turned to face him, hoping the husk in her own voice wasn’t too obvious. He gave her an assessing look that left her too aware that he knew she’d been crying. 

“Maybe they can’t return yet,” he said carefully, stepping closer to where she leaned against the Rover. “It was hard to make it there, it may be difficult to return.”

“I know,” she whispered, picking up the receiver and placing it back where it was supposed to go before she faced her husband. “But what if this is all for nothing? I doubt they can hear me, but I always thought they made it.”

“Why do you doubt that now?” he asked, putting his hands on her arms and drawing her close enough that all she could see was him but left plenty of space between them so he could watch her expressions. This wasn’t about comfort, not entirely, not in the traditional sense. He wanted her to work the problem through for him, see it from all angles. Something she’d grown to love about him. 

“Because they should be here,” she said, looking up to the wide blue sky, looking too peaceful to prevent her friends from coming. “It’s been safe for them for a while now.”

“Do you know that they had a way back?” he asked, returning to a conversation from years ago they’d had at the lab. Clarke had explained how the others had managed to leave Earth and how they hoped to make it to the remains of the station. What they had needed to do in order to survive up there. 

“They should have,” she said, but there was a little room for doubt there. “Raven has had more than five years to figure it out.”

“But maybe she lacks something vital,” Roan pointed out, squeezing her arms and gaining her attention. “You do not know. As you do not know if they can hear you.”

“I doubt they can,” she finally admitted out loud. He’d suspected it and asked about it when she explained the atmosphere and how radiation may interfere with satellite signals. But she’d been more optimistic then. “They probably assume I’m dead. They wouldn’t bother trying to get a signal through.”

“Then there is something important even Raven doesn’t know,” he softened his expression, raising his eyebrows a little at her. “Maybe you can admit that there are things you do not know.”

“I admit that quite often, thank you very much,” she sassed, but the smile he’d been chasing broke through and he rewarded her by pulling her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin. “You’re infuriating.”

“I am right,” he said, his voice deeper as she pressed her ear to his chest. “And you are too scared to have faith.”

“It’s not that,” she argued, holding him close. “I worry that I have been given this, so there must be something else that has been taken from me. Or will be.”

“We cannot live forever looking for the next threat,” he admonished, making her raise her head to give him an incredulous look.

“You believe that?” She laughed. “You dug a whole separate food storage cellar that’s completely hidden because you think optimism and faith is better than caution?”

“No,” he smiled softly at her, eyes alight. “I plan for potential disasters to mitigate risk. The food storage is a precaution for when we open the bunker. We do not know what has happened in such tight quarters in isolation. We need to prepare for potential conflict as people resettle on the surface.”

“Doesn’t seem like you have faith in your people,” Clarke pointed out, watching darkness edge the depths of his eyes as his expression grew serious.

“They are not my people,” he said. “Not any longer.”

“But Azgeda-” Clarke started but he shook his head. 

“Believe me dead,” he said. “As the people in space may believe you to be. The difference is I failed my people and you saved yours.”

“Roan-” she started but the look in his eyes stopped her. They’d argued this point often enough and neither were about to relent their stance. She knew him well enough. 

“We do not know who will emerge from that bunker,” his eyes held a trace of resignation and sadness as he continued. “We plan for that possibility and are relieved when it is proven a false assumption. Bellamy and the others do not pose a similar threat.”

“But believing that they didn’t make it isn’t preparing myself?” Clarke asked, her heart pinching at the thought. “It would hurt less if I wasn’t disappointed.”

“Having faith in them takes nothing from you,” Roan explained as he tucked a curl behind her ear. “It gives you hope. And if there is one thing you have taught me, niron, it is that hope is a very powerful thing to possess.”

His words made her throat constrict, taken aback at how much this time together had changed them both. She was more in every sense. She’d learned skills she’d never thought to know. She was a mother. A wife. A confidante and secret keeper for one of the most feared warriors in The Coalition and the only True Nightblood left. 

Roan had become more open, more hopeful than she’d known him to be. He’d candidly shared stories from his youth and though his admissions were rare, he loved her deeply. He was a teacher, a father, a doting husband and farmer. And he was happy. 

Clarke let her thoughts give her strength. And faith. Hope. 

“There,” Roan cupped her cheek, his thumb sweeping softly over her skin. “You need to keep the faith for all of us, Clarke. I have always looked to your hope to guide my way.”

“That’s a pretty big responsibility,” she whispered, tears catching against his thumb. 

“One you are uniquely capable of bearing,” he said, a soft smile on his lips as he leaned in to give her a gentle kiss. Clarke found herself smiling against his lips and slid her hands up and around his shoulders to wrap him close. The hum of contentment he gave in response was everything she’d fought so hard for. She knew they would be okay. Come what may. 

They had each other. 

*~*~*

“Will you tell me about my people?” Madi asked, looking seriously at him.

Roan shifted a little on the pile of pillows and furs Clarke had set out to make “comfortable space” though Roan wondered at its purpose. Madi and Clarke often spent time in the soft pile reading or relaxing but the concept was still foreign to him. But it was the place Madi had wanted to snuggle in as Clarke read to her from a big book of stories. Apparently the tale of the girl with long hair who hid in a tower wasn’t enough.

“I think I have told you all I know of your people, little one,” he said regretfully. “I didn’t know their ways as well as I should have.”

“Not Louwoda Kliron,” she corrected. “Azgeda. If I am now your daughter, I need to know more about my people.”

Roan tensed, not having expected her interest. He should have. He knew how curious she was. She’d asked him about Azgeda before, they both had, but he had never known what to tell them. Only enough to get him by.

“Please?” Madi added softly, regaining his attention. He glanced at Clarke who was watching the exchange closely. “I heard about them before. But I don’t understand. I want to know why you wanted to lead them. Why you went back.”

“Nia chose me as heir,” he said but knew it wouldn’t be enough. And it wasn’t close to the truth. He had wanted to be there for his people. To show them a better way. To help them understand that- to go home. To Nix. Aeir. His people.

“You didn’t have to be,” Clarke said, joining the conversation. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I did,” he admitted softly. “Nix never wanted to- he never could lead Azgeda. I couldn’t do that to him. Nia knew that.”

“Nix is your brother?” Madi asked, making his resolve fade. Especially when she moved closer, her big blue eyes trained on his face. The question made him realise just how few his details had been. He’d spoken of his siblings to her but hadn’t named them. It wasn’t good enough.

“Yes,” Roan sighed. “Phoenix is my younger brother.”

“And he didn’t want to be king?” Madi asked, apparently taking his acquiescence as acceptance. He felt a familiar hand wrap itself around his own, her fingers weaving through his, and he looked over to see Clarke settle beside him. Her eyes were warm and endless, hope shining in their depths. Perhaps it was time to let her in a little more.

“He’d see it as punishment,” Roan said fondly. “He was always more interested in training. Both men and wolves.”

“Wolves?” Clarke asked, sounding surprised.

“Yes,” he nodded. “We kept them as protection and companions. Nix took to them as a boy. Spent all his free time with the kennel master learning what he could. As he got older and earned his marks he grew to enjoy training men almost as much as pups. He never took to leadership the same way.”

“I can’t believe you had wolves,” Clarke murmured and Roan didn’t know if he was irritated or amused by her comment. Madi huffed on his other side, obviously less worried about what she felt.

“Was he a great warrior?” The girl asked. “Like Octavia?”

Roan shot Clarke a look, wondering, not for the first time, if all her stories were doing more harm than good. Telling Madi about their friends was good, as long as it didn’t lead to idle worship.

“Nix is a stronger warrior than I am so I am certain he would have no issue defeating even the fierce skairipa,” he said and Madi’s eyes widened. “Unfortunately, he often let his temper lead, especially against me and therefore he rarely beat me in a fair fight.” Roan smiled at the memories of sparring with his brother. Nix was taller and stronger than Roan, had been since they had trained as seconds. It had always been a challenge beating him but as he’d said they’d known each other’s weaknesses and used them well. Roan better than his younger brother most times.

“Do you think-“ Clarke started, but cut herself off, looking away.

“That he’s in the bunker?” He finished for her, making her look up at him. He searched her eyes as he weighed his answer. “I hope so.”

“Did you have more brothers and sisters?” Clarke asked then, moving to press herself closer to him. His fingertips brushed the raised scar on her wrist and it gave him courage enough to continue.

“Aeir,” her name a whisper past his lips. “My sister. Five winters younger than Nix. A healer. Swordsmith. Wanderer. Not ruthless enough for Nia. It was probably a relief for both of them when Echo proved herself worthy of the Azplana’s attention.”

“When did you see her last?” Clarke asked and his mind transported him back to the smoky hall, Azgeda celebrating their new king and his return. She’d told him she didn’t want to come, she’d been afraid of who may have taken up her brother’s skin but left that night with a warm embrace and promises of time to be repaid between them. The last picture he had was her pulling back, grey eyes warm and happy as she smiled up at him, more beautiful than he had remembered her being. He now prayed it wasn’t his last of her but knowing her selfless compassion he doubted she would have fought for a place below ground.

“Too long ago,” he said, unable to form any of the scrambled thoughts into enough coherence. “You would have liked her.”

“Really?” Clarke smiled and it eased a little of the pain in his chest at the thought. He knew Clarke and Aeir would have gotten along. They had enough in common and were both openly curious about things they wanted to learn more about. Aeir would have loved to learn about Skaikru medicine and Clarke would have benefitted from his sister’s extensive knowledge of herbs. It would have been something special to see them get along. At least once they had both had time to get over their initial distrust and protective instincts. He had no doubt both Clarke and Aeir would defend his supposed honour until they found each other worthy. The thought warmed his heart and his memory of his sister.

“Really,” he said finally. Maybe he could share something significant of his childhood with them.

“Our father died when I was fourteen,” he said haltingly. “Nix was thirteen and Aeir would have been eight. Nontu would tell us stories, teach us about our land, our people. He insisted we read stories from the world before the first Praimfaya to know the history before it was forgotten. Nix was never interested enough, but Aeir loved poetry.”

“Did you have many books?” Clarke asked in the ensuing silence, her hand tightening in his.

“There was a library,” he explained, recalling the endless supply of new information. “There was a large school, a university, within Azgeda lands. My grandfather brought the volumes from there to the capitol.”

“Do you think they’re still there?” Madi asked softly, ever curious.

“I do not know, strikon,” he admitted though he was curious. But that was a disappointment he was ready to realise. Not enough reason to seek out the remains of Azgeda and its ghosts.

“We should go see,” the girl added, sounding hopeful.

“Maybe one day,” Roan agreed, aware of being vague. He refused to promise something he wasn’t certain he could do.

“Did you have any other family?” Clarke asked, sensing his need to redirect the questions.

“A younger brother, Miki,” Roan’s jaw tightened at the memory of his youngest brother. “He was more like Nia than any of us. More like my grandfather before her. Ruthless and violent.”

“You weren’t close?” The blonde shifted more fully against his side, offering wordless comfort at the painful memory. He shook his head, reminding himself that he should try and see the world as Miki had, no matter how difficult it was. How much brutality it would try and justify.

“We were never told who his father was,” he continued. “Nia had several lovers even while my father was alive. She was not one to hide her indiscretions or be ashamed of them. I always believed that even a union made for political reasons should command loyalty, fidelity and respect. As my father showed my mother.”

“But you love Clarke,” Madi smirked, making Clarke grin softly. “So you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“That and there aren’t exactly many other options,” Clarke said, eyes twinkling. Roan knew she was jesting but it was something he never wanted her to think there to be any shred of truth to.

“There is no woman on this planet or above it I’d rather have as my partner in this life,” he said to her solemnly, holding her eyes and seeing the colours that bled into the different fractions that made up the colour of the summer skies. They lightened with her smile, her expression like the sunshine that made everything brighter in his life.

“Only this life?” She teased even as she leaned closer, kissing him softly and chastely. It was soft and sweet and as perfect as she was.

“In every life,” he confirmed. Theirs was not an expected match but he couldn’t imagine anyone else bringing him the happiness that Clarke did. “Do you want to hear about the time my brother, sister and I defied my mother and survived on our own for a week during the worst snowstorm of the season?”

“How old were you?” Madi asked immediately, eyes alight. “Why did you leave?”

“You assume it was my idea,” Roan cocked an eyebrow at the girl making her giggle. “Aeir had fought with Nia. I don’t remember what about, but she came storming into my room asking for clothes and rations.”

“Nix was there and soon enough she told us why,” Roan remembered the tears on her face, the shaking of her little hands from pain and fear, and his heart clenched again in sympathy so many years later. “It took very little to convince us to spend a night out with her.”

“What did Nia think of that?” Clarke asked, ever maternal.

“She’d come to expect it of my brother,” he admitted. “He was not one to stay after reprimands. He’d sleep a few nights in the kennels. But Aeir had been a docile child until then.”

“And you?” Clarke’s eyes were dark with some emotion he couldn't track.

“I knew it was better to take the lashings,” he said. “And always preferred to be the target of her anger.”

He didn’t like the sympathy that flashed in her eyes. He didn’t want her grief. Or her pity.

“But not this time?” She whispered.

“No,” he shook his head. “There was something different about my sister. Something I needed to help her with.  _ We _ needed to help her with. I thought one night out in the cold would be enough to make her listen.”

“But it didn’t!” Madi was too excited by far with this story, Roan smiled fondly. 

“No,” he replied quietly, letting his mind drift back to that afternoon in the cold stone courtyard and the determined look in Aeir’s sharp blue eyes. “Nix had saddled the horses and brought the two pups he’d been training. It took less time than I had anticipated for us to be outside the walls and on our way.”

“Did you know where you were going?” Madi asked, leaning forward, looking younger in her excitement. 

“I had an idea,” he smiled, sinking deeper into the furs with Clarke softening against his side. “There was a small wooded area about two hours ride from home that would have enough shelter for the night without too much preparation. The pups were young enough to tire quickly so it was best not to push them too far. Aeri had other ideas however.”

“When Nix and I suggested our usual camp she kicked her mount into full gallop,” Roan continued. “She rode at pace for much longer than she should have, getting through the deepest part of the wood and up into the higher reaches of the valley before my brother and I managed to catch her. We couldn’t convince her to stop until the sky had started to darken and the wind was ripping at our clothes.”

“Did you have to build your shelter?” Madi’s expression had become more serious even if she knew they’d survive the storm. “How bad was the storm?”

“Worse than we’d guessed,” he shook his head. “Luckily Aeir had led us to the side of the valley that had a series of cave systems Nix and I had explored the summer before. It wasn’t much, but it would stay dry and keep out some of the wind and snow. We found an area sheltered enough for the horses and built a fire before settling in to camp for the night. It was dark by the time we’d eaten our rations and colder than it had been for months. Aeir had the decency to look a little worried about our situation.”

“Did she tell you what your mother did to her?” Clarke asked.

“After two days of being snowed in,” Roan answered, his heart heavy. “She’d told my sister that she wasn’t needed any longer. That Nia had others who would gladly take her place as part of the royal line if Aeir didn’t start to fall into line. Start becoming more like the Azgeda warriors  _ she  _ wanted. Echo. Lucien. The more bloodthirsty of the Seconds.” 

“Why would she tell her that?” Clarke sounded horrified, her delicate brow wrinkling with the question, eyes tracking briefly to Madi. “Why would she tell her  _ daughter _ that?”

“It was Nia’s way,” he shook his head, even more deeply in love with her for her displays of compassion. His mother would have destroyed this trait in Clarke had she had a chance to but Roan was immensely proud of her ability to show her love so freely. “It was the last time Aeir listened to her.”

“Where did she go?” Madi asked softly, obviously enthralled. 

“Nowhere yet,” he smiled. “We were snowed in for a week, remember? We spent our time training, talking, teaching Aeir everything we’d been taught but she hadn’t. She was nearly as good as us in hand-to-hand by the time we managed to leave, easily besting any other child in her group after that week. Made Nia proud.”

Roan remembered the look in his mother’s eyes as she watched over training for the younglings the week they returned. What was meant as punishment for Aeir became malicious joy for the queen but his sister didn’t even acknowledge her rising position. If anything, it made her more determined to leave and made her pursue every avenue she could think of to escape. The healer who asked her to apprentice had barely gotten the question out before Aeir agreed and her bags were packed that afternoon. The year without his sister had been much harder than Roan would admit. 

“What about Nix and his wolves?” Madi asked, drawing him out of his memories. “What did he feed them?”

“He had to hunt for them,” Roan shook his head. “He spent half of the morning out finding game for them and teaching them to hunt when he needed to. I swear those pups were better hunters than he was, but preferred him doing the work. They were great sources of heat at night though.”

“I wish we could have one,” Madi’s lips turned down in a very typically childish sulk, her fingers picking at her shirt. “I saw one once, in the woods, but only for a moment.”

“Recently?” Clarke asked, but Roan knew the answer would be know. It was confirmed a moment later with the shake of a dark head.

“Before - “ Madi said softly, a trace of pain still present in her tone but it had lessened a little over the years. But loss was still loss. A mother was always a mother and you lost a part of yourself with the death of a parent. He knew the pain well. 

“They are a lot of work,” Roan felt the need to say, though he’d loved having a canine companion at his heels almost as much as Nix did. “My brother was kept busy the whole week, but we managed to find a cave nearby that was large enough for us all to stay warm and dry, and for the pups to run around. But they were constantly hungry and often restless. I’d always known Nix could be patient before that week, but I’d never been a witness to it. Not as directly as I was then. He loved those pups and had a way with them few could match.” 

“He must miss them now,” his daughter said wistfully. “In the bunker.”

“I imagine so,” he swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Nix would scout our snares with the pups several times a day, spar and train with Aeir and I, train the pups, play with them and still make time to help me read the skies and scout for signs of anyone looking for us. He did more than I did.”

“You were the defacto leader?” Clarke asked and he frowned over her choice of words. He assumed what she meant and nodded, having had to take over the planning of their days and delegation of tasks the first night. He was always the one his siblings looked to for leadership. He’d known that from an early age as well. 

“It was my role as the eldest son,” he confirmed. “It was what I was best at.”

“Not sure I believe that,” Clarke murmured, filling him with warmth. “So you learned something new about both Nix and Aeir then?”

“We had been close before,” he agreed. “But after that week we knew each other better than anyone else. There are no two people I trusted more than Nix and Aeir.”

“Not even us?” Madi asked, sounding torn between teasing and unease. 

“Not then,” he pressed a kiss against her forehead. “If they survived maybe I will have to reconsider that statement.”

“I hope they have,” Madi whispered, pressing herself against his side. His heart pinched in his chest at her words. He held the same hope but he knew it was unlikely to be. He’d never be that lucky. Not when he had more than he’d ever dreamed of in his arms right now. 


End file.
